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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714788">Two Ships in Passing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrookeLynnBridges/pseuds/BrookeLynnBridges'>BrookeLynnBridges</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DC Animated Universe (Timmverse), DCU (Comics), Justice League, Justice League - All Media Types, Wonder Woman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crimean War, Drama &amp; Romance, England (Country), Europe, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Middle East, War</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:47:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>155,748</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714788</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrookeLynnBridges/pseuds/BrookeLynnBridges</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>England 1843, Bruce Wayne has been sent to retrieve Lady Diana Princeton, who has been assumed dead these last 13 years and bring her back to what remains of her family in England. However, things don't go as smoothly as planned once the girl is on board his ship. How will things change as the pair get to know one another? And what does life hold for Diana back in England? BM/WW</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Diana (Wonder Woman)/Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Shayera Hol/John Stewart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>199</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I got the name Zachary Princeton from a fanfic I read once on fanfiction.net, I believe it was called "The Last Laugh" by The Cleric. Also, the beginning plot of this story is based on a book I read called "Hawk and Jewel", but the whole story will NOT be a retelling of that book. I also do not own any of the characters from DC. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it! :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Prologue</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>London England, 1830</em>
</p><p>Zachary Princeton, Duke of Hever, slowly walked down the gangplank behind the six sailors who balanced his wife’s coffin precariously on their shoulders. One of the sailors slipped on the slick boards. Zachary’s heart lurched as he watched the coffin sway, before steadying once more.  </p><p><em>Foolish reaction. </em>He thought.</p><p>It wasn’t as if Hippolyta could feel anything…or ever would again.</p><p>For a moment he paused in the middle of the plank, hesitant to leave. Turning halfway he observed the ship, <em>The Amazon Queen</em>. It had been a gift for his wife. He had had it made especially for Hippolyta to celebrate their voyage. A sort of peace offering. This vessel had filled him with so much hope, but now, he never wished to see it again.</p><p>Turning back around he finished the descent to the dock, staring at his shoes the whole way. Once on more stable boards, he looked up, and if possible, his heart sank even further.  </p><p>He recognized the carriage before he saw the lady who owned it. She waited patiently under its cover. Safe from the rain she watched tired men load the coffin into a waiting hearse.</p><p>Zachary knew there was no sense in putting off the unpleasant task. She had never liked him, but he hoped that in their shared grief they might bury the hatchet.</p><p>As he approached the older woman opened the door and motioned him in out of the rain. He obliged, sitting gingerly on the velvet interior.</p><p>“Is it true? Your message, is it true? Is my daughter dead?”</p><p>He hung his head and nodded.</p><p>“I am so sorry, Hippolyta is dead.”</p><p>She had never been one to show much emotion, an unfortunate trait inherited by her daughter. But her steely resolve slipped and gave a glimpse of her true sadness. He saw a tear in her grey eyes. She blinked it away and stared straight ahead, her back as upright and stiff as a beam. She refused to make eye contact with him, the son-in-law she never wanted. Instead, she asked a question. His answer would haunt them both forever.</p><p>“And what of little Diana?”</p><p>Again, the Duke shook his head, but this time he shed the tears he had not felt for his wife. In a torrent, they ran down his nose and dripped onto the expensive carpets.</p><p>In a rare moment of sympathy, she handed the distraught man a handkerchief. He dried his eyes and shook his head once more.</p><p>“There was no trace of her. She drowned in the sea.”</p><p>Her face betrayed nothing. Her voice was commanding and dared him to contradict her.</p><p>“I don’t believe it. I would know if she were dead too……..I would know.”</p><p>Zachary looked at those aristocratic features only beginning to show age. Glorious dark hair shinning with streaks of grey and unyielding eyes refusing to see facts. He found he felt sorry for her.</p><p><em>Poor woman. </em>He thought.</p><p>Diana Lennox had survived two husbands and now a daughter. Though she was a strong woman, her heart had faced all the loss it could take. She couldn’t accept the death of another loved one. Especially not the death of her favorite grandchild, her namesake. That bright, little, raven-haired enchantress, who hadn’t made it to her second birthday. But was lost at sea a mere two weeks before it.</p><p>
  <em>Poor woman, poor Hippolyta, My poor dear sweet child.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">The Kingdom of Dagra off the Arabian Sea, 1830</span> </em>
</p><p>Nura hurried through the marbled corridors. Servants, slaves, and concubines cleared a path, bowing to the Sultan's first wife. Brushing past them she rushed into the room. There, cocooned in silken sheets and pillows lay the child. Sound asleep.</p><p>Smiling the woman knelt and tenderly brushed a raven curl from the toddler’s face. Pressing a kiss to the little girl’s forehead she listened to the soft, steady, sound of her breathing and sent up a silent prayer of thanks.</p><p>She had wanted this child, wanted her more than anything else in the world. A little girl all her own to love. It had taken time, but the Sultan had finally agreed to her pleas and now she had her heart’s desire.</p><p>Nura guessed her to be about three, given her height, and predicted she would be quite the beauty one day.</p><p>A small lump formed in her throat as she thought of how the little girl had screamed and cried for her mother. Calling over and over again for the woman in that odd tongue.</p><p>The babe had clung to Nura and had not let anyone else near her for weeks. She fantasized that the child had chosen her to be her new mother. After the foreign woman had died, Nura knew God had granted this precious little girl to be hers.</p><p>She had felt a twinge of guilt when the woman’s husband arrived. He was looking for her and his child. She pushed the thought from her mind. After all, men so rarely took to female children, she was sure he would waste no time forgetting about this one.</p><p>Pulling <em>her daughter</em> close Nura held her whilst she slept.</p><p>“Rest little one, you are a princess now, and I will love you more than any mother has ever loved a child before.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 1: Princess Amira</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 1: Princess Amira</span>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Palace Harem Kingdom of Dagra, May 1843</em>
</p>
<p>“Come on Shayera just a few more steps, or are you getting slow in your old age?”</p>
<p>The Princess laughed and raced up the narrow stone steps.</p>
<p>The older girl resented the slander and flew up the stairs with intensified speed.</p>
<p>“Careful Amira, your balance might be thrown off by that big head of yours.”</p>
<p>They ran with all their might. But, in the end, the two were well matched and reached the top together. Completely out of breath, with lungs burning, they fell to the floor laughing.</p>
<p>Shayera sat up and leaned on the tower's low wall. Feeling the cool stone press against her half-bare back. It was best to remain sitting. The girls knew the law of the harem, which forbade any woman from climbing the tower, but it mattered little to them. They had been sneaking up here since they were old enough to hide from their nurses.</p>
<p>“I won’t be able to keep up with you much longer; not if you keep growing.”</p>
<p>Shayera tossed her veil over her little sister’s head. Amira swatted the cloth and pushed it back in her face.</p>
<p>Rolling onto her stomach the younger girl frowned. Crossing her eyes as she let out a groan.</p>
<p>“<em>Ugh! </em>Growing indeed!”</p>
<p>Shayera laughed.</p>
<p>“No, I'm serious!”</p>
<p>“Oh I know you are, that’s what makes it so funny.”</p>
<p>Amira pushed herself up and punched Shayera in the shoulder.</p>
<p>“<em>Ow</em>! Alright, Alright!”</p>
<p>“I mean just look at these, things! It’s like I woke up one day and <em>bam</em>!”</p>
<p>Shayera howled.</p>
<p>“<em>Bam!</em>”</p>
<p>“Stop it! It isn’t funny! Who knew they would be so uncomfortable. If I had known that before I never would have wished for them.”</p>
<p>Shayera gasped for air, clutching her midsection, as tears rolled down her face.</p>
<p>“Oh aren’t you vain!”</p>
<p>“I am not!”</p>
<p>“Yes, you are! For months you complained that if you didn't get breasts you would run into the desert and die. Now you’ve got your wish and you act as if it's a curse because <em>you</em>, my unsatisfied little sister, are as vain as a peacock!”</p>
<p>Shayera smiled at Amira’s sufferings and let out a sigh. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back, resting it on the wall's ledge. A breeze blew, making her earrings jingle and dance.</p>
<p>“You needn’t worry about anything. With a face like that, every man from here to the red sea will be crawling across the desert to beg for you. If I had a figure like yours, I wouldn’t settle for anything less than a prince. To think, you aren’t even done growing! You're almost as tall as me now, give it another month and you’ll pass me altogether. No, you have nothing to vex your pretty little head about. I’ll be lucky if Alab manages to pay someone to take me.”</p>
<p>“Why do you say that?”</p>
<p>“Look at me!”</p>
<p>Shayera sat up and faced her sister, giving a good view of her features.</p>
<p>“What man wants a wife with hair the color of fire, skin like sand, and eyes to remind him of illusive green pastures? I'm the one that's cursed!”</p>
<p>Amira covered her mouth, failing to muffle her laughter.</p>
<p>“Well, how about a goat herder? I bet he would like to have a wife that can blend in so well with the desert. He might even find green eyes a good omen. Yes, that’s what you need! A nice, <em>old</em>, goat herder. I’m sure he would be happy to take you for a third…no fourth wife.”</p>
<p>Shayera pushed her over for such an insult, and then enveloped her giggling little sister in a hug.</p>
<p>The two had been close since they were toddlers. They were the youngest of the Sultan’s children and only a year apart in age which had made them natural playmates. </p>
<p>One thing that had drawn them together was their appearance. Neither blended well within the harem. Not Amira, with her large azure eyes and pale skin, or Shayera, with light green eyes and red hair so unlike the dark beauty of their sisters.</p>
<p>No one would ever have pointed this fact out to Amira. She was the daughter of the first wife. But Shayera was not afforded such luxury. She had endured many slurs and insults at her foreign appearance. </p>
<p>The other women always took it as a great blessing if Shayera consented to cooperate. Amira was more tolerable.</p>
<p>Of course, not all the resentment harbored toward Shayera belonged at the girl’s feet. It was her mother’s tale that intertwined with her own and made things more complicated.</p>
<p>Shiera (Shayera’s mother) was born in a country far to the north. She could never remember which country, she was so young when forced to leave. But, she recalled playing in the snow with a nameless brother.</p>
<p>When Shiera was young, she hadn’t known for sure but guessed she was around 3, someone stole her from her home. Sold her to a slave trader further south who put her on a ship. Sending her even farther from her ancestral homeland. Once off the ship, another sold her again. This time to a local noble who desired a playmate for his sickly daughter.</p>
<p>She lived with the noble's family for three years. It was a pleasant time in her life and she remembered it as the only semblance of a childhood she had known. Unfortunately, the noble’s daughter continued to weaken. Until succumbing to her illness. After his child’s death, the noble saw no reason to keep her former companion around. So he sold her. Without even allowing her a chance to say goodbye.</p>
<p>All her life she remembered the terror that consumed her when that strange man entered the house. He took her by the arm, dragged her kicking and screaming out the door. Thrown her across a horse’s back and tied her hands and feet so she couldn’t escape. The last glimpse she had of her former owner was of him counting a small sack of golden coins.</p>
<p>From then on one master then another sold her until she lost count. Each perpetual sale moving her farther south. Until the sun shone hot and dry on her pale skin, and she first glimpsed palm trees peppering the landscape.</p>
<p>When she was on the cusp of womanhood she was sold once again. This time to a seedy caravan leader named Arash, whose eye for a good deal was as crooked as his teeth. It was while in his employ that she finally crossed into the seaside kingdom of Dagra. Seeing for the first time the dazzling splendor of that capital city.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, Arash soon got on the Sultan’s bad side and found himself in danger of having his head removed from his shoulders.</p>
<p>In an attempt to save his skin, and knowing the Sultan’s eye for beauty, he offered up his young slave girl as a gift. Hoping that she would soothe the Sultan’s wounded vanity and calm his wrath.</p>
<p>The plan worked. Arash escaped with his life, banished from the kingdom’s borders, and Shiera became the concubine of the Sultan of Dagra. Her pale red hair and light green eyes, which looked like the sea after a storm, enchanted the Sultan.</p>
<p>He so enjoyed his new “toy” that at every opportunity he would spend his time solely with her. His otherwise ignored wives did not take kindly to the new favorite. The poor girl found herself devoid of female companionship or protection in her new home.</p>
<p>Nura saw the situation as an unpleasant but temporary one and let the young girl be. She more than the rest understood the wandering affections of the Sultan.</p>
<p>But the Sultan’s other wives, Maha, Nadia, and Fayza, did not view the situation with as much foresight. They tormented the girl.</p>
<p>Of course, no one asked Shiera if she wanted the Sultan’s undivided attention. Nor would they have believed her answer. She was an outlet for their wounded vanity and they preyed on her subservient nature. A trait born from years of enslavement at the hands of other harsh taskmasters.</p>
<p>The hostilities did die down some at the birth of Shayera. Nura even visited her. Commenting on the baby’s good fortune at surviving being born almost two months early.</p>
<p>“She’s a fighter,” Nura said.</p>
<p>No other prediction she ever made would be as true as that one.</p>
<p>Life became less hostile within the harem. Meanwhile, her relationship with the Sultan deteriorated.</p>
<p>He had wanted a son. He already had three daughters and saw another one as an insult to his manhood. Of course, he had sons, but he was not a man easily satisfied.</p>
<p>The attention lavished upon her before grew cold, even cruel. While his disappointment simmered, his determination increased.</p>
<p>It took many years. But when Shayera was seven her mother again bore a child. Yet this time, the fates were not as kind.</p>
<p>The child, a boy, died before taking his first breath. His mother never knew. Her mind was too torn apart by the fever that consumed her. Three days after her prince’s death she too breathed her last.</p>
<p>The Sultan had her body buried without ceremony in the endless red sands. Their daughter would look across them from within her gilded cage. Searching for her mother's grave, never finding it.</p>
<p>The women of the harem should have rallied together around the motherless child, and they might have if she had not been such a glaring reminder of the rival they had hated.</p>
<p>Shayera had inherited her mother’s light green eyes and red hair, with subtle differences. Her hair was a deeper shade of red and her skin wasn’t as pale, being more olive tinted. Even so, there was no denying whose child she was.</p>
<p>“So this goat herder of mine, will he be young and handsome?” Shayera asked.</p>
<p>“<em>Hmmm</em>, I am afraid not…”</p>
<p>Amira put a hand on her forehead, closing her eyes, she stretched out the other hand. Mimicking a fortune teller she had once seen over the wall. In a shaky, forbearing voice she prophesied.</p>
<p>“<em>Your husband will be 100, with a long beard that drags on the ground, a snaggletooth, and mostly blind and deaf!</em>”</p>
<p>“Good.”</p>
<p>Amira broke her pretend trance and stared at her sister.</p>
<p>“Good? You want to marry a grouchy old man?”</p>
<p>“Why not? If he is old and blind then he won’t be able to stop me from running away. Besides, I might like goats.”</p>
<p>“You’ve never seen a goat.”</p>
<p>“That’s not true. Remember? Nadira had a goat.”</p>
<p>“That wasn’t a goat that was a demon! I’m glad he wound up being cooked.”</p>
<p>“He was vicious. But poor Nadira, she loved that thing. Even had a servant carry it around on a pillow.”</p>
<p>“Till he bit the servant. I repeat, not a good representative of goats.”</p>
<p>“Maybe not.”</p>
<p>They leaned against the wall. Listening to the faint hum of voices from the courtyard below.</p>
<p>Amira's fingers caressed the floor, absorbing the chill from the shade into her skin. Tracing intricate designs of flowers carved into the stone. The tower was so beautiful, you would never know its purpose was for war.</p>
<p>Built during a bloody civil war a century ago, the tower was a lookout for hostile troops. To hold them off while the women escaped through secret tunnels beneath the palace. Or so legend said. Shayera and Amira had searched countless times but had never been able to locate the tunnels. Still, the tower remained. Possessing the most wonderful view of the outside world; the forbidden world.</p>
<p>Shayera turned and looked over the edge.</p>
<p>“I think I see it?”</p>
<p>“Really! Where?”</p>
<p>“Here it comes! Look!”</p>
<p>Amira joined her, searching the ocean’s horizon.</p>
<p>A small brown dot was growing closer. Taking on the form of a ship as it entered the harbor. Amira’s heart pounded in her ears as she leaned over the edge, trying to get as close to the elusive vessel as possible.</p>
<p>“Can you see the flag? Do you know which one it is?”</p>
<p>Shayera narrowed her eyes, peering intently at the ship’s rigging. Putting her hawk-like eyesight to use.</p>
<p>Amira gripped the stone ledge making her hands ache.</p>
<p>“It’s English! That’s the British flag, right? Blue and white with a red cross?” Shayera asked.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes that’s it! That’s the one!”</p>
<p>Amira wrapped her arms around her sister’s neck and leaned out over the ledge. Trying to see the colors for herself.</p>
<p>“STOP!”</p>
<p>Shayera pulled her sister back before she fell to her death.</p>
<p>“I know you seem to think you can fly but I wouldn’t suggest testing that ability.”</p>
<p>“Sorry, but it is just so exciting to see one at last.”</p>
<p>“Do you still plan on asking Nura to let you visit the ship?”</p>
<p>“Yes, but I know the decision isn’t hers alone. I just hope she will be able to convince Alab.”</p>
<p>“And do you really think you will be satisfied once you have seen it?”</p>
<p>The younger girl nodded vigorously.</p>
<p>“I just want to see it, just once.”</p>
<p>Shayera looked back to the sea. She understood wanting to taste freedom, even if only for a moment.</p>
<p>“PRINCESS AMIRA! PRINCESS SHAYERA! COME DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!”</p>
<p>The girls fell to the floor.</p>
<p>“<em>Do you think she saw us?</em>” Amira whispered.</p>
<p>“I KNOW YOU’RE UP THERE!”</p>
<p>“I think she saw us.”</p>
<p>Shayera stood.</p>
<p>“Coming!” she hollered and began their slow decline down the stairs.</p>
<p>Waiting at the bottom of the stairs was an unsmiling Egyptian woman. Her arms were too fat to cross so she rested her hands on her hips. She was short, barely coming to Shayera’s shoulders, and had a triple chin that wobbled when she talked. Her name was Fadeela.</p>
<p>One look from her would make anyone wish to repent of all their sins or otherwise die from shame.</p>
<p>Fadeela was old, possibly 80. She had been Nura’s nurse when she was young and had accompanied her as a young bride to the harem. She had also served as Amira’s nursemaid and still felt responsible for the princess.</p>
<p>No one disobeyed her. Shayera had even seen the self-righteous Shani put in her place by Fadeela’s disapproval.</p>
<p>The old servant waddled up to the girls and wagged a swollen finger in their faces.</p>
<p>“How many times must I tell you? It is forbidden to climb the tower!”</p>
<p>“We’re sorry Fadeela but we just wanted to see the…”</p>
<p>“<em>OH!</em> Allah forgive me for not teaching them proper respect! I tried, you know I tried! Please save them from their own foolishness.”</p>
<p>Shayera crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“Oh honestly! It isn’t like we jumped the walls and seduced every man from here to Damascus.”</p>
<p>Fadeela slapped a hand over her heart causing her large bosom to shake. Amira shot Shayera a look, begging her to be silent. But the older girl shrugged her shoulders. Showing no remorse for disrespecting her elder.</p>
<p>Again a fat finger pushed itself into Shayera’s face.</p>
<p>“You, Princess, will find your life very difficult unless you learn to curb that tongue of yours.”</p>
<p>Shayera responded by sticking her tongue out. Amira gave her an elbow to the ribs and tried to apologize on her behalf.</p>
<p>“I am sorry Fadeela but it wasn’t Shayera’s fault. I was the one who wanted to see the ship.”</p>
<p>“This again! I thought you had learned your lesson the last time.”</p>
<p>The old woman sighed and studied them. A look of pity on her face.</p>
<p>With motherly sympathy, she took their slender hands in her chubby ones.</p>
<p>“Why can’t the two of you be satisfied with what you have? You have good lives, you are Princesses. Oh my little girls, why do you try and vex my old soul.”</p>
<p>That did it. Both girls hung their heads in shame and immediately apologized. Smiling in victory Fadeela turned on her heels and motioned them to follow.</p>
<p>“The banquet is in a few hours and it is time you two started getting ready.”</p>
<p>They bathed, had oils rubbed into their skin, and their hair rinsed with rose water. It was the Sultan’s birthday and celebrations had been going on for weeks. Tonight it was the harem’s turn to honor him, and every woman wished to look her best.</p>
<p>Shayera had dressed in a light green top and loose pants that gathered around her ankles. Decorated with small yellow diamonds and silver thread creating flowers, vines, and leaves. Her top cut above her waist and servants had created an elaborate design on her hands, feet, and midsection with henna.</p>
<p>Amira had chosen a short top of pale pink and a skirt in the same color. Gold thread and beads created bursting sun patterns along the neckline and hem. On her arms, she wore bands of hammered gold and her wrists jingled with bangles of various precious metals.</p>
<p>The girls sat in the courtyard on a large Persian carpet as servants braiding their hair. Amira rummaged through various chests and cases. Picking what jewelry she wanted to wear. Shayera held an ornate mirror to her face as she applied kohl around her eyes.</p>
<p>The sun was setting and a cool breeze blew through the courtyard. Many of the others were also getting ready in the shade of the courtyard. The sound of soft chatter and female laughter wafted like music through the air.</p>
<p>“So, did you ask her?”</p>
<p>“No. I haven’t seen my mother all day. She has been busy making sure her slaves delivered the food and money she wished to give to charity.”</p>
<p>“Your mother certainly gives a lot to charity. Not to mention that whenever there is a crisis in the harem she takes it upon herself to settle the matter.”</p>
<p>“Well, she is supposed to. She’s the ruler of the harem.”</p>
<p>“I know, but don’t you ever feel like she takes too much upon herself?”</p>
<p>Amira shrugged her shoulders and continued searching through the jewels.</p>
<p>“Look at that!”</p>
<p>Shayera turned from her reflection to see Amira remove a small doll from a box. It was a wooden doll carved in the image of Amira, though a much younger version. It was once painted with bright colors that were now faded and chipped.</p>
<p>“I had forgotten about this! I can’t believe I still have it. Shayera where’s yours?”</p>
<p>The older girl returned her attention to the mirror and shrugged.</p>
<p>“I don’t know. I doubt I even still have mine.”</p>
<p>Amira returned the doll to the box and returned to searching.</p>
<p>“<em>Ugh!</em>”</p>
<p>“What’s the matter? Nothing suit your vanity?” Shayera asked, putting the finishing touches on her eyes.</p>
<p>“What do you think?” she turned her face one way then the other. Giving Amira a good view of her handiwork.</p>
<p>“Very nice, and for your information, I was looking for something for you.”</p>
<p>“Me?”</p>
<p>“Yes, but if you wish to continue insulting me...”</p>
<p>“No, no, no don’t be like that. I love presents! What is it?”</p>
<p>Amira’s smile broadened as she pulled an exquisite rope of pearls from a deep chest and held them out to her sister.</p>
<p>Shayera took in a sharp breath. She owned many nice things, but nothing compared to this.</p>
<p>“Amira, it’s…they’re…I can’t.”</p>
<p>“Of course you can!”</p>
<p>She draped the priceless necklace over her sister’s head and sat back admiring the effect.</p>
<p>“Now you look like a Queen!”</p>
<p>“Amira, really I can’t take these, they’re yours.”</p>
<p>“Nonsense! I want you to have them, don’t you like them?”</p>
<p>Shayera’s hands closed around the pearls.</p>
<p>“Of course I do. I love them.”</p>
<p>“Then it’s settled!”</p>
<p>Amira smiled and when back to rummaging through the jewelry pile, this time procuring a pair of earrings for herself.</p>
<p>Shayera rolled the pearls between her fingers.</p>
<p>“<em>Thank you</em>.”</p>
<p>Feet slapping against the marble floor reached their ears. The girls turned to see one of Nura’s servants coming toward them. She knelt on the floor and bowed.</p>
<p>“Princess Amira, your mother wishes to see you. She is waiting in her chambers.”</p>
<p>Amira nodded to the servant.</p>
<p>“Thank you Fawzia, please tell her I am on my way.”</p>
<p>She bowed again and scurried to obey.</p>
<p>“Do you think it’s about the tower?” Shayera asked.</p>
<p>“Only one way to find out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nura sat on her expensive cushions. Watching as slaves laid out one lavish outfit after another. She needed to decide what to wear to the banquet, but her mind wouldn't focus.</p>
<p>She hadn’t been sleeping well. Troubling dreams of a pale woman with blonde hair haunted her. Every night the woman called out to her and made her sin known.</p>
<p>Nura tried to push back the unsettling memory.</p>
<p>She would have Fadeela arrange for more food to be taken to the poor later.</p>
<p>
  <em>And will that be enough Nura? Will, that stop your dreams? Will it finally erase what you’ve done?</em>
</p>
<p>“Ami?”</p>
<p>Nura snapped back to reality. Her daughter, her beautiful daughter, was watching her.</p>
<p>“Are you alright?”</p>
<p>Amira knelt before her mother. Nura put her hand to her daughter’s face. Her darker hand contrasting with Amira’s lighter skin.</p>
<p>Kissing her forehead she helped the girl stand.</p>
<p>“I am fine my sun and stars, just tired. Let me see your outfit.”</p>
<p>Amira spun so her mother could view her in all her glory.</p>
<p>Nura applauded.</p>
<p>“Very beautiful! I see Wafa has braided jasmine into your hair, it is a nice touch.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Ami.”</p>
<p>“I wanted to make sure you were properly dressed, tonight is an important event. But I see your judgment is more than suitable, you look wonderful!”</p>
<p>Amira spun once more and the bells on her ankles sang.</p>
<p>“Ami, may I ask you for something?”</p>
<p>“Of course my love.”</p>
<p>Amira took and deep breath.</p>
<p>“I WANT TO VISIT THE SHIP!”</p>
<p>Nura blinked.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry Ami but we climbed the tower today and…”</p>
<p>“Yes, I know. Amira, <em>you</em> <em>know</em> it is forbidden…”</p>
<p>“I know but we saw a ship, an English ship!”</p>
<p>Nura felt herself being suffocated but managed to keep her features serene.</p>
<p>“Did you?”</p>
<p>“Yes, and please I promise just let me see it once and I will never ask again….AND I WON’T CLIMB THE TOWER FOR A MONTH!”</p>
<p>Nura couldn’t help but smile. Amira had always been unusually honest for a child. Evidence by the fact that she knew she wouldn’t be able to ignore the temptation of the tower forever.</p>
<p>Nura looked at her daughter's pleading face and knew she could deny her nothing.</p>
<p>“I will speak to the Sultan tonight. He has summoned me after the banquet.”</p>
<p>Amira squealed and hugged her mother.</p>
<p>“I have to tell Shayera!!!”</p>
<p>She ran from the room and Nura felt her legs go weak.</p>
<p>Falling to her knees she fought back her terror.</p>
<p>
  <em>Allah help me.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span class="u">After the Banquet.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>Nura held her head high as she walked down the seemingly endless corridor to her husband’s chambers.</p>
<p>Once in front of the impressive double doors, she waited patiently for the servant to announce her.</p>
<p>Upon entering she had to work hard to keep her breathing steady as she bowed before the man upon whom her whole life depended.</p>
<p>“Greetings my lord.”</p>
<p>He motioned for her to rise and smiled menacingly as he looked at his wife.</p>
<p>Nura had to admit that despite his age he was still, physically, an impressive-looking man.</p>
<p>“Nura, just as lovely as ever.”</p>
<p>She had the decency to blush at his compliment, though she knew it was only lip service. There was no love lost between them now. She had been his wife for over thirty years and born him four sons. Sons whom he had all but taken away.</p>
<p>
  <em>They will not learn much raised in the world of women.</em>
</p>
<p>Her husband. Her Sultan. The man she was bound to serve.</p>
<p>“You sent for me my lord?”</p>
<p>“I did, I wished to discuss your daughter.”</p>
<p>Nura’s hands clenched.</p>
<p>“What about Amira?”</p>
<p>His smile increased.</p>
<p>“I only wish the best for her. That reminds me, I have heard that you have been having trouble sleeping recently.”</p>
<p>She wasn’t surprised he knew about that; he had spies everywhere.</p>
<p>“Well, you will be pleased to hear that I have arranged to take care of your guilt, and Amira too.”</p>
<p>Nura lost herself in panic and approached her husband.</p>
<p>“What have you done Garsiv?”</p>
<p>His brow narrowed and she immediately dropped her gaze.</p>
<p>His smile returned.</p>
<p>“I have sent inquiries and found some pleasant news. Turns out the girl’s family lives, and they will be most pleased to take her back as one of their own.”</p>
<p>“<em>The ship!</em>”</p>
<p>“Yes, it arrived this morning. Her people are most anxious for her return and I have no desire to prolong their wait.”</p>
<p>Nura’s knees smacked the floor and tears streamed down her face.</p>
<p>“Why are you doing this? You can’t take her from me. She is my daughter!”</p>
<p>The Sultan stood over the woman who crouched before him.</p>
<p>“My generosity gave her to you, and it is my wish that she be taken away. Wars are not cheap my dear and if you wish to keep those pretty jewels around your neck then sacrifices must be made.”</p>
<p>Nura ripped the necklace from her throat and threw it at his feet.</p>
<p>“TAKE IT! TAKE ALL OF IT! JUST DON’T TAKE HER!”</p>
<p>The Sultan waved his hand.</p>
<p>“It is already done.”</p>
<p>A scream pierced the air. Tears flowed from her eyes as her heart broke.</p>
<p>“<em>Get up wife!</em>” He hissed.</p>
<p>Two slave girls scurried to help her to her feet. Though they had to hold her up for she could no longer support herself.</p>
<p>He clapped his hands and a woman stepped forward. She was strangely dressed and carried several bolts of doughty colored cloth.</p>
<p>“This is Laurel. She will make sure the Princess is ready for her voyage.”</p>
<p>He waved her away and the servants practically carried Nura to the door.</p>
<p>“The Princess is not to be told. Tell her that her wish has been granted. In a few weeks’ she will be allowed to visit the English ship. And Nura, no one else is to be told either.”</p>
<p>
  <em>I can’t even say goodbye.</em>
</p>
<p>This time the servants did have to carry her out for she had fainted.</p>
<p>In the chaos no one noticed a slight shadow disappearing down the hallway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span class="u">Six days later Sultan’s Harem, Dagra</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>Amira twirled before the full-length mirror admiring her reflection. So absorbed in her appearance she didn’t notice her mother enter the room.</p>
<p>“And what sort of garment is that?” asked Nura as she sat on the bed.</p>
<p>Amira’s eyes danced as she showed off for her mother.</p>
<p>“It’s a dress Ami, don’t you think it is lovely?”</p>
<p>Nura looked at the brown woolen dress.</p>
<p>It had a high collar and no embellishment. The sleeves were long, reaching all the way to the wrist, and seemed a bit too tight for comfort. Amira, being too caught up in the newness of the experience, failed to notice the dress’s failings.</p>
<p>She spun again watching the heavy skirt flail about her.</p>
<p>“And look at this!”</p>
<p>She lifted the skirt to reveal layers of similar skirts in white as well as funny looking little pants that stopped at the knee and black things covering her legs. On her feet was a pair of brown boots that seemed most unbecoming to Nura’s eye.</p>
<p>“Why so much?”</p>
<p>“Laurel said it is so the crew will not be embarrassed by my presence.”</p>
<p>“I say they will not, for it is you dear daughter who will be embarrassed.”</p>
<p>Amira laughed and kissed her mother’s cheek.</p>
<p>“Thank you so much!”</p>
<p>Nura had to fight back tears as she forced a smile.</p>
<p>In a moment of weakness, she grabbed her daughter and held her in a bone-crushing embrace.</p>
<p>“Ami! You’ll ruin my dress!”</p>
<p>Nura let her go.</p>
<p>Amira returned to the mirror.</p>
<p>“Oh, it is just wonderful! I must show Shayera!”</p>
<p>She raced out of her room, leaving her mother behind.</p>
<p>It was late. Most everyone else was already asleep, but Amira hoped that her sister wouldn’t be. Sure enough, Shayera was awake. Sitting up on her bed, knees pulled to her chest, watching the shadows cast by the lantern dance on the wall. She didn't smile when her sister entered. She only looked on while the younger showed off her new outfit.</p>
<p>Amira didn’t even notice.</p>
<p>“Don’t you like it Shayera?”</p>
<p>“It’s very nice Amira.”</p>
<p>Moving to Shayera’s mirror Amira continued to dance before her reflection.</p>
<p>Shayera watched her with an emotionless face.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 2: Across the Sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 2: Across the Sea</span>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Kingdom of Dagra, May 1843</em>
</p>
<p>Amira smoothed down the folds of her brown dress. She wanted to be sure she looked perfect. The last thing she wanted was to offend the sailors who were allowing her to visit their ship. Once again, she pulled down the sleeve over her wrist making sure all flesh remained covered.</p>
<p>It was hot in the wool gown. But, she put the discomfort out of her mind. It was well worth it to finally be able to see the ship. She made a mental promise to take careful note of everything she saw. She wanted to relay the experience in perfect detail to Shayera when she returned to the palace.</p>
<p>One of the servants carrying her palanquin stumbled, causing the vehicle to lurch.  She put a hand to the smooth frame bracing herself. The servants steadied and began to move with the rhythmic gait again.</p>
<p>She wished she could see properly but she dared not pull back the thin curtains. She was so close to receiving her greatest wish, she didn't dare tempt fate by breaking the rules. Besides, soon it wouldn’t matter; she would be on the ship, and then everything would change.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span class="u">On Board the Knight’s Revenge, May 1843</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>Bruce Wayne waited on the deck of his ship, The Knight’s Revenge, for her to arrive.</p>
<p>He had arrived on this Kingdom’s shores weeks ago. The Sultan had refused to allow him access to the girl until certain arrangements were made. The extended-stay had been an inconvenience, but he'd be damned to hell before he left her behind.</p>
<p>In his 25 years of life, he had never taken anything so seriously as his promise to bring this girl home, and Bruce took everything seriously.</p>
<p>He hoped that he would be able to see her before their departure. To share her family’s good wishes and discuss the various aspects of the journey. But all contact had been forbidden.</p>
<p>Complete lack of contact with the ruler’s ward had been his first inklings of suspicion. The second had come with the long days of negotiation and debate that had followed. But all worry seemed to be over. Last night a message had arrived that she would board his ship the next morning.</p>
<p>Now he stood on deck watching the slow procession making its way up the dock. The crew lined up and the ship shone like a beautiful jewel, no surface had gone unpolished. He had left nothing to chance, nothing undone, all was in readiness to welcome her aboard and to take her home.</p>
<p>The procession came to rest at the base of the gangplank. At its center was an ornate palanquin. Gold with various precious stones gleaming in the sunshine. All openings covered by curtains of royal purple. Carried by six bearers who swayed with a practiced rhythm like a dance. A pudgy eunuch stepped forward.</p>
<p>Bowing, he offered up a hand. Bruce watched as the purple curtains parted and a slim hand exited. The servant took the hand and two serving girls rushed forward to draw back the drapes.</p>
<p>A plainly dressed girl exited the glittering cage. She stood for a moment, surveying the ship, allowing him (and the crew) to take in her appearance.</p>
<p>She wore a brown wool dress which was horribly out of fashion. With a high, stiff neckline and long sleeves that appeared too tight. The bodice was ill-fitting and the skirt hung heavy and limp. But she stood tall and proud as if she were a queen. When she had stepped down he saw a glimpse of rough brown boots that looked more suited to a man than a young girl.</p>
<p>He wished he could see her face. To gauge her reaction. But she wore a veil of red gauze over her head that completely hid her face. All he could make out was a foggy silhouette and raven hair that fell down her back to her hips.</p>
<p>Reaching out her arm the eunuch helped his mistress climb the gangplank. Followed by an army of servants and palace guards.</p>
<p>Bruce felt panicked. Did they all think they were coming? Because that would not be the case.</p>
<p>On deck she turned this way and that, trying to take in every detail from behind her veil. Her face was more visible now and he could see a faint glimpse of blue eyes and a smiling mouth.</p>
<p>He stepped forward to greet her, but a short man with a large beard cut him off. His bald head reflecting the sun into Bruce's eyes. The man was shorter than she was but spoke with authority.</p>
<p>The little man spoke quickly.</p>
<p>“Captain Wayne, it is my pleasure to present Princess Amira, cherished daughter of his Majesty the high and mighty Sultan Garsiv of Dagra and his first wife Nura, the jewel of the palace and ruler of the harem.”</p>
<p>Hearing her name the girl turned from her visual exploration.</p>
<p>She was tall, possibly 5 foot 6 or even 7, and he had reason to believe that she would grow taller.</p>
<p>
  <em>She will be quite a match for the petite beauties of London.</em>
</p>
<p>The servant turned his back to Bruce.</p>
<p>Bowing he addressed the Princess in a quick flurry of words in his foreign tongue. He spoke with such speed that Bruce had no hope of following his words. But from the entourage’s reaction, he saw the little man was actually speaking at a normal cadence.</p>
<p>Bruce had mastered several languages, including the classics of Greek and Latin. But listening to this servant converse he felt like a novice of language.</p>
<p>The multitude of eyes watching him brought him out of his thoughts. Why were they looking at him?</p>
<p>The seconds dragged by and the girl’s entourage continued to stare him down. Even his own crew began to look at him.</p>
<p>His eye caught a serving girl standing to the side of her mistress.</p>
<p>She made a little bowing motion.</p>
<p>They were waiting for him to greet her!</p>
<p>That he could do.</p>
<p>The manners of his society, which stressed the niceties of how to treat a lady, were drilled into his very bones.</p>
<p>He bowed from the waist with dignity and a straight back, heels clipped together.</p>
<p>The sour pout on the mustached servant's face gave him the feeling his bow had not been low enough.</p>
<p>Judging from the man’s eyes he would have preferred for Bruce to fall to his knees and kiss the boards beneath her feet. But that wasn’t going to happen.</p>
<p>If there had been a lack of respect she didn’t seem to notice.</p>
<p>She spoke rapidly to the servant who turned to convey her words to the Captain.</p>
<p>“My lady wishes to thank you for your hospitality in allowing her a tour of your vessel. She says she has long desired to visit an English ship and is most grateful for this opportunity.”</p>
<p>Bruce stared back.</p>
<p>
  <em>A tour? My hospitality? She doesn’t know!</em>
</p>
<p>He had been led to believe that this was her idea. It was her desire to return to England.</p>
<p>
  <em>Another lie.</em>
</p>
<p>Bruce would have told her right then his true purpose for being in Dagra. But he deduced whatever he said would be twisted by the slimy little interpreter before reaching her ears.</p>
<p>This presented a second problem. One he foolishly hadn't planned for. She didn’t speak English. He could teach her enough to communicate until they got back to England. But how would he explain things to her in the meantime? She couldn't understand him.</p>
<p>He led her, and her servants, around the craft on a tour. He hadn't seen a way out of it.</p>
<p>Then another dilemma. Was he wrong and she correct? Was this all a hoax? Invented so a child could live out a dream of walking on deck an English ship. Did the Sultan never intended to give her back? He hadn't the ability to take on a ruler.</p>
<p>They toured the decks, crew quarters, galley, the hold, and wheelhouse. Finishing in the Captain’s cabin.</p>
<p>For the whole process, Amira had kept up a steady stream of questions via her translator. Her joy in this experience was evident, even threw her veil.</p>
<p>The captain’s cabin was by far the most luxurious section of the ship, but by no means ostentatious. There was a desk, a bed underneath a small window, a privacy screen by the far wall, another door, and a small table in the center of the room.</p>
<p>She examined a large world map that hung over the desk, completely ignoring the rest of them.</p>
<p>The translator clapped his hands. A girl stepped forward holding a tray with two goblets filled with wine. He handed one to Bruce and said something to the Princess. She turned from her exploration and took the second glass.</p>
<p>She raised the goblet to Bruce and spoke in her foreign dialect.</p>
<p>“The Princess wants to thank you again for your kindness and wishes you a safe journey home.”</p>
<p>Bruce raised his glass as she did hers in toast and took a sip of the sweet-tasting wine.</p>
<p>
  <em>What am I going to do?</em>
</p>
<p>She placed her cup back on the tray and he followed her lead.</p>
<p>Amira returned to looking around the room; moving to the window to peer out at the bustle on the dock below.</p>
<p>Bruce decided that no matter what he was taking this girl home.</p>
<p>He would tell her the truth.</p>
<p>Tell her why he was here and make Rashad tell her word for word what he had said.</p>
<p>With determination he stepped forward, ready to explain everything, but he didn’t get the chance.</p>
<p>The Princess put a hand to her forehead and held out the other to steady herself as she began to sway.</p>
<p>He moved to keep her from falling.</p>
<p>She didn’t notice his advance and sat down on his bed. Slumping slightly and then falling back on the cot, completely unconscious.</p>
<p>“What have you done to her!?!”</p>
<p>“It was necessary; she will not sleep long.”</p>
<p>Without missing a beat Rashad clapped his hands and the servants sprang into action.</p>
<p>Moving efficiently, they brought in a large western trunk. Sitting it in a corner of the cabin they left the room. He could hear their footsteps as they exited the boat.</p>
<p>Now it was only himself, the unconscious Princess, Rashad, and one servant girl remaining in the cabin.</p>
<p>The girl clutched an ornate chest that was elaborately decorated with ivory and jewels.</p>
<p>The servant girl rushed toward him. Holding out the chest that rattled with her shaking hands.</p>
<p>He saw little choice but to take it.</p>
<p>In a quiet voice, the girl spoke a few words, stealing a quick glance at the unconscious Princess.</p>
<p>Bruce turned to Rashad.</p>
<p>The man was glowering at the servant who studied her toes and trembled in fear.</p>
<p>The delivery of this chest had not been a part of Rashad’s plans. With poorly concealed fury Rashad relayed her words.</p>
<p>“Her name is Fawzia. She begs you to give this gift to the Princess. It is from her lady.”</p>
<p>Rashad's nostrils flared while his breath whistled through clenched teeth.</p>
<p>Having given the message, he barked something at the servant.</p>
<p>Her face paled. With a yelp she scrambled for the exited, bowing all the way.</p>
<p>With the offender banished Rashad regained his dignity and handed Bruce a parchment scroll.</p>
<p>“This will explain everything once she awakes.”</p>
<p>And with that, he left.</p>
<p>Bruce was glad to see him go.</p>
<p>He stood frozen for a moment, debating.</p>
<p>
  <em>We need to get out of here. </em>
</p>
<p>He put the chest down with the trunk and made sure that the girl was situated comfortably on the bed. Careful to be sure she would not fall off.</p>
<p>He felt sorry for her. Thinking of the terrible shock she was going to endure when she woke up. He would need a plan for that.</p>
<p>Exiting the cabin, he eased the door shut.</p>
<p>Climbing the stairs two at a time, he made his way up on deck.</p>
<p>“GRAYSON!”</p>
<p>His first mate appeared by his side.</p>
<p>“Yes, Captain?”</p>
<p>“Get this ship out of here now!”</p>
<p>John Grayson was a good sailor who did not need to be given his orders twice.</p>
<p>He got the crew going, lifting the anchor and pulling down the sails.</p>
<p>Climbing the twisted rope ladder himself, John let down the sail.</p>
<p>He had the ability of an acrobat and had never feared heights.</p>
<p>Bruce took the wheel and steered the ship out of the harbor.</p>
<p><em>That sniveling coward. He never even told her</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>-Amira,</em>
</p>
<p>Amira's eyelids felt heavy as she tried to open them.</p>
<p>Slowly, groggily, she sat up on the bed and tried to focus her sight on the floor. Shaking her head she tried to lift the heavy fog from her mind.</p>
<p>She looked around the small room with its wood-paneled walls and odd furnishings.</p>
<p>In an instant, her memory cleared and her mind raced in confusion.</p>
<p>
  <em>Where is everyone? What happened?</em>
</p>
<p>“Rashad.....? Fawzia......? Anyone?”</p>
<p>She stood. Almost falling over as the ship swayed.</p>
<p>Steadying herself with the back of a chair, she turned to the window.</p>
<p>Confusion turned to panic as she saw the shoreline rapidly disappearing behind them.</p>
<p>
  <em>I'm being kidnapped! Oh, why, why, did I ever ask to come to this ship?</em>
</p>
<p>Regret drowned her young heart as her mind scrambled for an escape.</p>
<p>Looking back out the small glass she judged the distance from the ship to shore.</p>
<p>
  <em>I can swim it. If I can just get close enough a fishing boat could pick me up!</em>
</p>
<p>Slamming her hand against the wood panel she began to hastily take off her many layers of clothing.</p>
<p>
  <em>I can’t swim in all of this, I’ll drown!</em>
</p>
<p>Tearing at the long row of buttons she pulled at the seam.</p>
<p>The sound of wood buttons clinking to the floor and the tearing fabric sounded her victory.</p>
<p>She felt instant relief as she pulled off the restrictive dress.</p>
<p>Digging her nails into the strings she fought to unlace the boorish contraption that bound her breasts.</p>
<p>Throwing the corset on the ground she took in a great gulp of air and kicked off the boots.</p>
<p>Feeling more frantic she peeled off the petticoats and stockings. She would need to run and slipping would ruin her whole plan.</p>
<p>Standing in chemise and pantalets was still more covered than normal. She felt no embarrassment at being so whorishly immodest.</p>
<p>Glancing back at the window she saw the distance between boat and shore had almost doubled.</p>
<p>Throwing her veil away she charged for the door.</p>
<p>Pulling it open with a vengeance she ran up the stairs and raced across the deck.</p>
<p>Voices swirled about her. Raised in alarm as she reached the deck and looked around frantically. Her eyes darting back and forth around the ship nervously.</p>
<p>The crew stared at her, startled at the sight of this undressed teenager.</p>
<p>The Captain’s voice barked out above the confused noise, making her snap her head towards the sound.</p>
<p>He was running down the short stair from the wheel shouting and holding out a hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>-Bruce,</em>
</p>
<p>“STOP!”</p>
<p>Bruce watched as the girl halted turned back, watching him, studying him.</p>
<p>Her eyes darted back and forth with crazed energy. Her hands held away from her sides as her fingers twitched and itched with anticipation. She balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to run as she snapped her head in the direction of every new sound.</p>
<p>He ran down to where she stood, but he should have moved quicker.</p>
<p>He saw the determination in her azure eyes as they slanted quickly to the side of the ship. His stomach dropped as her lips curled into an eager smile and his blood ran cold.</p>
<p>
  <em>You wouldn’t! </em>
</p>
<p>She would.</p>
<p>Like a wild animal, she took off!</p>
<p>Dodging sailors, she ran to the railing, leaped atop it, and without even a glance back dove over the side.</p>
<p>Bruce and the crew scrambled to the rail, convinced he had witnessed her commit suicide.</p>
<p>His lungs filled with air and his heart returned again began to beat when he saw her head surface from the blue current.</p>
<p>Making long, even, strokes, she glided through the water with impressive speed. Diving beneath the waves that pushed her back against the boat.</p>
<p>
  <em>What sort of woman is this?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>-Amira,</em>
</p>
<p>The cool water sucked the air from her lungs and made her gasp as she surfaced. Wasting no time, she began to swim. Each stroke bringing her closer, bringing her home.</p>
<p>
  <em>I'm coming Ami, I'm coming.</em>
</p>
<p>The pantalets begin to fill with water, pulling her down and forcing her head below the churning waves.</p>
<p>Wriggling she kicked her legs against the current that dragged her down. Her lungs burned and her head felt it would explode as the water beat against her skull. Tugging at the fabric she pushed them off her legs and let them sink to the bottom of the sea.</p>
<p>Kicking hard she pushed the water down and fought for the surface.</p>
<p>Surfacing, she could see black dots moving along the shore. She was close, she was going to make it!</p>
<p>Her lifting spirits froze at the sound of splashing water.</p>
<p>Cheers and hollers filled her ears, driving her to swim faster, harder! She was so close!</p>
<p>A strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back.</p>
<p>Panic mixed with rage as she fought to be free.</p>
<p>Kicking and clawing, she screamed!</p>
<p>
  <em>Let me go! Let me go! I have to get home, Ami, I have to get home!</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>The Ship The Knight's Revenge</em>
</p>
<p>He struggled to hold on as she fought him.</p>
<p>The men had already lowered a ladder.</p>
<p>He began to swim towards it, dragging her with him.</p>
<p>She increased the fight; kicking him with her legs and pulling at his hair, attempting to rip it from his head.</p>
<p>Realizing if she didn’t stop there was a good chance they would both drown he pushed her head under the water.</p>
<p>Immediately she stopped fighting him and began fighting the water.</p>
<p>Letting her back up he again pulled her toward the ship as she gasped for air and coughed up seawater.</p>
<p>Shifting her over his shoulder Bruce began to climb the swaying ladder.</p>
<p>Amira continued to fight, pounding her fists against his back and trying to wriggle free and drop back into the water below, it was no use.</p>
<p>Once back on deck Bruce carried her with long pounding strides back down to the cabin. Amira was just able to glimpse the shoreline which almost completely disappeared in the distance and knew that there would be no escape for her.</p>
<p>Once in the cabin Bruce slammed the door and dropped the girl to the floor and she backed away like a scared cat.</p>
<p>Turning the key in the lock, hearing the sound of the bolt in the door. He hung the key around his neck and turned back to his would-be escapee.</p>
<p>She stood in the center of the room dripping a river of water on the rug. Her wet raven hair lay plastered against her face and she shivered with cold. He had to admit that even in her disheveled state she was a beauty. With a long thin neck that held her head high and proud. Her skin was flawless and her complexion the envy of every woman he had ever met. Her eyes were large and clear, the most stunning shade of azure and rimmed with thick black lashes that were so long as to begin to curl back on themselves. But her eyes viewed him with intense suspicion and outrage. Her red mouth was downturned in anger but was still exquisite. Her cheekbones were high and sleek like carved from marble and her nose was straight and noble.</p>
<p>A memory of her grandmother came to his mind’s eye and Bruce acknowledged that there could be no mistaking the similarities.</p>
<p>Her shivering had increased and her teeth now chattered from cold. Moving to a chest at the foot of his bed he opened it and pulled forth a large white cotton towel and threw it in her direction. Instinctively she caught it but instead of gratitude, her eyes blazed with the blue fire of insult. Her black eyebrows swooped down towards her eyes and she threw the towel back in his face, crossing her arms against the cold.</p>
<p>He wasn’t aware of the fact but Amira had never been touched by a man before, at least not a proper man, and she was unbearably insulted at his throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of feed.</p>
<p>Bruce let out a frustrated sigh and had to check his own temper. With powerful strides, he crossed the room and towered above her. He saw fear leap into her eyes but she quickly squashed it down and met his glare with haughty disapproval.</p>
<p>Taking her hand in his he put the towel back in it and forced her fingers closed around it.</p>
<p>She wanted to throw it in his face but he still held her hand captive in his. All she could do was glower at him with all the hatred she possessed.</p>
<p>Taking an arm he pointed toward the privacy screen against the far wall and commanded.</p>
<p>“Get in the bath.”</p>
<p>She looked at him with no understanding.</p>
<p>
  <em>Obviously,</em>
  <em> you fool she doesn’t speak English.</em>
</p>
<p>Taking her roughly by the arm he marched her farther back into the cabin so she could see the tub that was bolted to the floor behind the screen. He had ordered the men to boil the water whilst she slept and while he wrestled her in the sea they had filled the tub to the brim with hot water. Pointing once more he repeated.</p>
<p>“Get in the tub.”</p>
<p>She looked at the bath and then wrenched her arm free from his grasp, and clutching the towel to her chest backed into the corner away from the tub. Then with the defiance of a toddler held out the towel and dropped it to the floor.</p>
<p>She was a Princess, she would not be dictated to by a sailor, and she most certainly would not bathe with him present.</p>
<p>Bruce was normally a relatively patient man but he had no tolerance for such childish tantrums.</p>
<p>With one swift move, he picked her up and marched to the tub. She screamed in protest but he ignored her cries. Holding her over the tub he tried to drop her into the water.</p>
<p>Amira, however, was not giving up without a fight. Digging her nails into its edge she wedged herself atop the tub and used her feet and arms to keep herself from being forced into the water.</p>
<p><em>That’s it, no more! </em>Thought Bruce.</p>
<p>And taking a large hand he put it over her head and pushed her down into the water like a cat he would wish to drown.</p>
<p>Water splashed over the sides soaking the floor and pale arms and legs flailed from the cat scratching at his arm and kicking.</p>
<p>He pulled her out by her hair and she coughed and sputtered for breath. But before she could fully fill her lungs he pushed her down again. This time she quit fighting him and instead just tried to surface her head so she could breathe.</p>
<p>Taking his hand away she burst from the churning water with a great cry and her chest heaved as she gulped down air.</p>
<p>She panted and glared at him with pure loathing but he just threw a bar of soap into the tub and walked to the other side of the screen allowing her some privacy.</p>
<p>Angrily Amira decided to do as she was told and took off the once again soaked chemise. Using the soap, she washed and then sat in the warm water with her knees pulled to her chest, resting her chin on top of them.</p>
<p>
  <em>What am I going to do? Where is he taking me? Why is he taking me? I wonder if he hurt Rashad or Fawzia. I feel so stupid, I should have never asked to come here.</em>
</p>
<p>As her temper cooled fear took its place and Amira thought of what her poor mother would do when she didn’t return.</p>
<p>She sat in the bath for so long the water turned cold. She looked around for the towel before remembering with regret that she had thrown it down on the other side of the room.</p>
<p>
  <em>Brilliant Amira what are you going to use now?</em>
</p>
<p>Just then the screen shook slightly and Amira looked up to see the towel being laid over the top of it, along with another dress that looked like the chemise but longer and with long sleeves.</p>
<p>Climbing out of the tub she dried off and put on the dress and discovered that it wasn’t made of rough wool but of soft cotton, a nice change.</p>
<p>
  <em>Where did this come from? Are there more women on this ship? How many has he stolen?</em>
</p>
<p>Using the towel, she attempted to dry her hair but discovered that it was now a mass of tangles. She battled to smooth it by ripping the knots apart with her fingers but it was time-consuming and she never fully managed to get them all.</p>
<p>Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady her nerves which felt raw and shaky.</p>
<p>Stepping out from behind the screen she saw the captain waiting for her. He was dressed in dry clothes now and Amira took a moment to study his appearance.</p>
<p>He was very tall, she guessed about 6 foot 3. He was muscular with broad shoulders and thick arms. Amira felt her cheeks grow warm as she looked him over. His hair was jet black and his eyes light blue. His face was angular and most handsome with a strong jaw and defined chin and cheekbones. His mouth was set in a straight line and it led her to believe that this was a serious man who was not prone to laughter.</p>
<p>She knew she should feel afraid of him and even though his face appeared harsh and cold his eyes looked at her with pity and concern.</p>
<p>He pulled out a chair for her at the small dining table and she reluctantly sat down. He sat across from her and produced a comb from somewhere and slid it across the table to her.</p>
<p>Gratefully she took it and began to brush through her curls. He seemed very nervous and in spite of herself, she felt sorry for that before she reminded herself that this barbarian had kidnapped her and she should feel nothing but scorn and derision for him.</p>
<p>Bruce waited patiently as she brushed her damp locks, never breaking eye contact with him and he felt sorry for fear he saw there. This was not how things were supposed to have gone.</p>
<p>
  <em>How am I going to explain it to her when she can’t understand me? Poor girl probably thinks I have kidnapped her.</em>
</p>
<p>Then he remembered the scroll Rasheed had given him. Standing he retrieved it and returned to his seat across the table from her. Holding the parchment out to her she looked at it quizzically and hesitantly laid aside the comb in exchange for the scroll.</p>
<p>She unrolled it and he caught a glimpse of the Arabic script as she read it intently.</p>
<p>
  <em>To The Princess Amira,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It is for your own good that you are being sent away. The people who you are going to in England are rich and powerful and will welcome you with great happiness. You are English and it is time you returned to them. You will be missed, but this is necessary and I have judged it so. Do not write or attempt to make any form of contact with Nura or any other member of the palace or the consequence served to them will be most severe.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I know you will be angry with me for this my child, but in time you will see that it is for the best. Your English family has paid handsomely for your return and you can rest assured that you have helped with the safeguarding of the kingdom from the demon’s head.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>His Majesty the most magnificent and high lord, Sultan Garsiv of Dagra.</em>
</p>
<p>She put down the letter and sat in disbelief.</p>
<p>
  <em>He didn’t kidnap me, he was sent for me. The Sultan……sold me………sent me away from my-</em>
</p>
<p>With a snap, she stood. Bruce stood also in case she tried to run again for even though the door was locked he didn’t want to underestimate her.</p>
<p>She didn’t run though but continued to stare at the paper that lay on the desk.</p>
<p>
  <em>How could he do it……HOW COULD HE!</em>
</p>
<p>Bruce spoke, he knew she couldn’t understand him, but he hoped she would recognize the tone of sympathy in his words.</p>
<p>“I am so sorry, I know you don’t know what I am saying, but I hope you can comprehend that I am sorry.”</p>
<p>To his absolute shock, she replied.</p>
<p>“I can speak English.” Her voice was heavily accented but clear. In fact, her unique pronunciation gave his native tongue an elegance that he had to admit it didn’t possess on its own.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you say so?”</p>
<p>She looked at him with challenging eyes.</p>
<p>“I did not wish to offend anyone or misunderstand with my lack of knowledge about your language.”</p>
<p>Bruce nodded at her diplomatic appraisal.</p>
<p>“That explains the interpreter.”</p>
<p>She didn’t even nod for she had returned her attention to the letter.</p>
<p>
  <em>Why is this happening, why is he doing this? England?</em>
</p>
<p>“The Sultan says you are taking me to England.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I am taking you back to your family.”</p>
<p>She dropped the paper to the floor and turned to look at him with a deathly pale face.</p>
<p>“I have no family.” She said, asking him to confirm this.</p>
<p>Bruce steeled himself for the unpleasant task of exposing the Sultan’s lies. He motioned for her to sit again. Once seated he decided to start by asking her a few questions.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you tell me what you know about yourself?”</p>
<p>Steading her shaking hands she looked him in the eye with a confidence she was trying desperately to keep from shattering.</p>
<p>“My name is Princess Amira of Dagra, I am 16 years old and my adopted mother is Nura, wife of the Sultan.”</p>
<p>Bruce breathed a small sigh of relief.</p>
<p>“So, you are aware that Nura is not your birth mother.”</p>
<p>The young girl gave a look of annoyance.</p>
<p>“Anyone with eyes would know that.”</p>
<p>Bruce nodded seriously and motioned for her to continue.</p>
<p>“I do not know the name of the woman who bore me, but I remember she had yellow hair. When I was three years old she brought me to the palace and begged Nura to take me and raise me. She could not feed me and be ill; she probably died not long after. But she wanted me to have a better life so she gave me to the Sultan and his wife.”</p>
<p>Bruce raised his eyebrows at this completely falsified account but Amira mistook his look like one of interest and continued proudly in her tale.</p>
<p>“I hold great respect for the woman. When I was a young child I overheard a slave talking about a foreign woman and child, when I questioned my Ami about it she told me that she was an English woman who had come to our kingdom much like Shayera’s mother had and that she was the woman who had given birth to me, but that I was the child that Allah had given my Ami. So, I determined to fulfill her wish for me to live well and decided to honor her by learning how to speak and read English.”</p>
<p>Amira became quieter and her eyes took on a faraway look. In a voice barely above a whisper, she finished.</p>
<p>“That is why I wanted to see your ship………I wanted to meet her countrymen.”</p>
<p>“You wanted to feel close to her, if for only a moment.”</p>
<p>She nodded her head sadly before turning back to him with poorly concealed anxiety.</p>
<p>“Why are you taking me to England?”</p>
<p>He tried to sound gentle.</p>
<p>“I am taking you back to your family. That story you just told, it isn’t true, none of it, I am sorry.”</p>
<p>He could tell that she wished for him to be the liar, and he could clearly see her confusion and pain etched on her face.</p>
<p>He decided that it was best to put it all out in the open.</p>
<p>“Your name is Lady Diana Princeton, and it is true that your birthday passed but recently, however you are 15 years old, not 16.”</p>
<p>She did not respond verbally but he saw her eyes widen and her lips part slightly in surprise.</p>
<p>“Your mother’s name was Hippolyta Lennox Princeton.”</p>
<p>In spite of herself, she leaned forward at the first mention she had ever heard of her mother’s name.</p>
<p>“Your father, Zachary Princeton, 7<sup>th</sup> Duke of Hever. When you were almost two your parents decided to take a voyage and brought you along. But there was a terrible storm off the coast of Dagra. The captain thought the ship would sink and placed you and your parents in a lifeboat bound for shore. However, the boat capsized and your parents became separated. Eventually, your father made it back to the ship which by some decree of providence did not sink after all, but you and your mother were gone.”</p>
<p>The young girl had leaned forward even farther now completely absorbed in the tale, so much so that she forgot it was about herself.</p>
<p>“Your father searched for weeks up and down the coast. When he visited the Sultan and asked if there had been any news of your mother and you the Sultan led him to a room where your mother’s body was being prepared for burial. She had been found but died not long after her rescue. When he asked about you the Sultan said that there had been no trace of you. You were very young so the Duke never questioned the legitimacy of the report and simply took your mother’s coffin back with him to England.”</p>
<p>Amira was in shock. This was a wonderful tale but surely it couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be about her, this man was lying! She had no father, her mother hadn’t died in a storm at sea, she had asked Nura to care for and raise her…he was lying!</p>
<p>“Several months ago, your family received word that you were alive and wished to return. Obviously, there was some skepticism, after all, it had been 13 years. But it was explained that upon seeing you the Sultan’s wife had desired you for her own and convinced her husband to lie to your father about your survival.”</p>
<p>Amira sat back in her chair with a jolt, and her face held the same look as a child who has been slapped and doesn’t understand the reason.</p>
<p>“She stole you, Diana.”</p>
<p>That was too far.</p>
<p>She leaped to her feet and quickly put the chair between him and herself.</p>
<p>“Liar! You’re a Liar! Nura didn’t steal me, my mother gave me to her…for me….f-for a better life……your lying!”</p>
<p>Her voice quivered and hot tears burned in her eyes.</p>
<p>
  <em>It can’t be true, it can’t be true………my life isn’t a lie……I am the daughter of a Sultan, the daughter of Nura…IT ISN’T TRUE!</em>
</p>
<p>But she knew it was. Garsiv’s letter confirmed it, along with countless questions and examples from her childhood that could never be satisfied with answers, now they all suddenly fell into place. Yes, deny it all she willed, it was true, and she knew it.</p>
<p>Bruce stood as well and reached out, but she recoiled from him as if he were a snake.</p>
<p>Backing herself into his desk she accidentally knocked over several books and papers.</p>
<p>The sound made her jump and she began to fidget and look about the confined space nervously; as her mind tried to adjust itself to this new reality and accept that the old one had been a lie.</p>
<p>“Diana please listen, your family is very happy you are coming home. You are going to have a wonderful life.”</p>
<p>She brought her hands to the sides of her face as her thoughts raced.</p>
<p>
  <em>Family? Who are they? Coming home…Dagra is my home, the palace is my home, Nura is my home……Ami, please I want to go back…</em>
</p>
<p>She wanted desperately to go back. Back to yesterday, when she knew who she was, who loved her, and when the world made sense.</p>
<p>“Diana…”</p>
<p>Furious she turned on him.</p>
<p>“STOP CALLING ME THAT!!!”</p>
<p>He didn’t even blink in the face of her rage.</p>
<p>Angrily she punched her fists into his strong chest.</p>
<p>“DON’T CALL ME THAT!!!”</p>
<p>“Diana,” he said again in a calm voice. The sooner she accepted it the easier it would be.</p>
<p>“STOP! Listen to me that is not my name, do you hear me!?! THAT—IS—NOT MY NAME!!!”</p>
<p>She stopped her attack and backed away. Drawing herself to her full height she tried to look confident and commanding, but she only looked like a little girl who was frightened beyond reason.</p>
<p>“I am Princess Amira of Dagra.”</p>
<p>“Diana.” He said once more and she slammed her palms down on the table causing it to shake. Tears streamed down her cheeks from her azure eyes and she looked at him pleadingly. Silently begging him to take it back.</p>
<p>To say she was right and she was who she said she was.</p>
<p>That this was all a bad dream and would end.</p>
<p>“How dare you! I AM A PRINCESS!” She cried.</p>
<p>“No, you’re not……you are Lady Diana Princeton, and I am taking you home.”</p>
<p>She looked at him as all hope drained from her face.</p>
<p>Swiftly he walked to her and forgetting propriety held her to his chest as she dissolved in tears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Palace Harem, Kingdom of Dagra</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>-Princess Shayera</em>
</p>
<p>Shayera climbed the last of the narrow stone stairs up to the tower.</p>
<p>Her feet felt heavy and her heart was in pain.</p>
<p>As she crested the top she looked up and saw a million stars winking at her in silver majesty.</p>
<p>Shayera had always thought that the stars looked like heaven’s tears, and tonight they shone more brightly than ever.</p>
<p>Slowly raising her hand, she clasped it around a strand of priceless pearls that hung about her neck.</p>
<p>The whole palace was shrouded in the peaceful darkness of night, but she could not sleep. How could she, when everything had changed?</p>
<p>Nura had locked herself away in her rooms and refused all entry.</p>
<p>Shayera took her free hand and roughly brushed away the tears that had begun to fall against her will.</p>
<p>A soft breeze flew by and she lifted her face to the sea. Even in the darkness, she could see the moon reflecting off its majestic surface. All her life she had loved the sight of it. It had calmed her, symbolizing the freedom she so desired…but she knew she could never look at it again with anything but hatred.</p>
<p>Hatred for the sister she had lost. The sister who had been stolen away from her and sold across the sea.</p>
<p>This time the tears flowed down her face and she didn’t try to stop them. It hurt. It hurt so much. Why her? Why <em>her</em> sister? Why was it always the ones she loved?</p>
<p>
  <em>Amira………please comeback………</em>
</p>
<p>It was foolishness, she knew life could never return to what it was.</p>
<p>With sobs choking her she felt the pearls again. She ran her fingers up and down the strand, feeling the smooth jewels against her skin.</p>
<p>Then with all the strength, she had she pulled on the necklace.</p>
<p>The string broke and the precious pearls that had been a gift from a most beloved sister bounced away down the stone façade. Taking the pearls in her fists she flung them at the far-off sea and yelled.</p>
<p>“TAKE THEM! JUST LIKE YOU’VE TAKEN EVERYTHING ELSE!!!”</p>
<p>Then, the poor child fell to the floor and wept.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 3: Lady Diana</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 3: Lady Diana</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>The Knight’s Revenge, May 1843</em>
</p><p>Diana tried to pry her eyes open but they were heavy and weighted down, feeling gritty and blurred by a film of fog.</p><p>Her head ached and it was relieving to actually give up on the unpleasant task and seal her lids once more.</p><p>In that wistful state between asleep and awake, her imagination took over and roamed her mind for new threads to spin.</p><p>It began its work and with a rush, the events of yesterday came crashing down on her with such force that she bolted upright in fright.</p><p>It had all happened, it wasn’t a bad dream, it had been real. Instead of being safe and happy with her mother in the palace, she was on a ship. Headed to a faraway country that she had no concrete knowledge of and to a family she hadn’t known existed.</p><p>Swinging her legs over the side of the low bunk she looked about the room.</p><p>More of a closet really, it was only as long as her bunk and not much wider. There was a window of sorts at the end of the room directly across from the door and the brown wood of the ship was the only color to be seen beside the beige bedding. The only other item in the room was a trunk under the window. It was a far cry from the splendor and luxury that had surrounded her every day for the past 13 years.</p><p><em>13 years of lies…</em> She thought bitterly, and then another memory came to mind. <em>I am 15, not 16. An entire year of my life that I thought I had lived doesn’t exist like it was stolen.</em></p><p>That summed up her feelings on the whole situation perfectly. Stolen, her life had been stolen from her. Once when she was a toddler and again now. Stolen and ridden with lies.</p><p>She found she didn’t mind that last part as much as the fact that she was no longer allowed to live as if the lies were true.</p><p>She stood a bit unsteadily, feeling the boat move slightly beneath her feet. She wondered how long it would take to become used to walking on water.</p><p>Driven by curiosity she decided to open the trunk and look inside. After fiddling with the clasps and struggling a bit with the heavy lid she managed to uncover the contents and looked in disappointment at two small piles of clothing.</p><p>One stack was of various underclothes and in the other were three dresses that were almost identical to the one she had discarded the day before. They were of different colored wool and to her eyes appeared horrendously uncomfortable. On top of all these articles rested that awful body cage Laurel had squeezed her into, calling it a <em>corset</em>, that Diana had torn off yesterday.</p><p>
  <em>Laurel! </em>
</p><p>So, the seamstress had made her a whole wardrobe for her journey.</p><p>
  <em>They thought of everything.</em>
</p><p>She let the lid drop with a bang and stood.</p><p>Not wanting to think again of the Sultan’s betrayal she turned to the door and threw it open. She stepped through and found herself in the captain’s cabin.</p><p>“Hello? Anyone here?”</p><p>She entered and glanced about. The Captain didn’t seem to be there so she began to investigate and try to discern what kind of man he was. Despite the trauma of the whole situation, she couldn’t deny her overwhelming curiosity about him. He was the first Englishman she had ever met and would, therefore, be the standard by which she measured all the rest, whether for good or bad.</p><p>She crossed the floor swiftly, the sound of her bare feet tapping against the boards echoed through the space.</p><p>It was much larger than her hovel of a room; she found she resented him for that. As she looked through his belongings she found everything in impeccable order without as much as a hair out of place. The books on the shelf were arranged meticulously by height. The desk and table’s surfaces were clear of any form of clutter, the rug was smoothed and placed directly beneath the table with great precision, and the bed was made with the skill and neatness of an army officer.</p><p><em>What a bore. </em>She thought as she observed this sanctuary of order.</p><p>She gathered from the surroundings that he was a serious man who valued regularity and uniformity. He was neat and tidy and appeared to leave nothing to chance or laziness.</p><p>It was beginning to seem that he was a hollow drudge. She read the book titles in her uneasy English and found none of them very intriguing. They seemed to be works of science, philosophy, and language. She would have much-preferred novels or poetry to such drab volumes of learning.</p><p>She looked back over the desk trying to find something that would offer her a glimpse into this austere man’s intimate character.</p><p>Her eyes grazed over various metal instruments all lined up superbly and a small stack of neatly arranged letters. She was sorely tempted to read those notes but didn’t for fear that he would be able to tell if anything had been moved. For she knew she could never successfully replace them in such a restricted order.</p><p>At the end of the desk, she did find something however that grabbed her full attention.</p><p>There rested a small portrait in a silver frame. Curiosity unbridled, she picked it up in order to examine it closer.</p><p>The artist had been a master. The pair staring back at her through the frame looked so lifelike that she imagined she could see their breath gather on the glass.</p><p>It was a picture of a couple. They were dressed quite oddly in her opinion but she fancied it was the normal fashion for the English. The man was walking beside the woman, leading her gently by the arm and looking back at her with loving eyes. He was much taller than she, with dark hair and a mustache. He wore a suit jacket of green and trousers of white. At his neck was tied an elaborate bow that was also white. The woman looked directly out of the portrait with a gentle smile on her pink lips. Her hair was a much lighter brown with streaks of gold. Her gown gathered under her bust and hung straight with little-puffed sleeves, it was of a powdery blue edged with silver. From the bottom of her skirt peaked out a small white slipper.</p><p>They looked happy and in love. Diana lost herself in thought imagining who they were and what they were like.</p><p>Just then the sound of steadily nearing footsteps reached her ears.</p><p>Quickly she replaced the picture and raced to the table; just managing to sit down as the lock turned in the door. Hurriedly she arranged her features into a mirror of picturesque sinlessness; just in time to greet the large man who entered holding a silver tray.</p><p>Bruce raised an eyebrow at the sight of the calm young lady in his cabin. Sitting serenely at the table with her hands folded elegantly in her lap and an innocent smile on her pretty face.</p><p>He walked forward, placing the tray before her on the table. Never breaking eye contact, and keeping his face in its normal stern, firm, setting he moved past her to the desk and slightly adjusted the frame a quarter of an inch.</p><p>Her tranquil exterior melted away as she crossed her arms and slouched, a contemptuous scowl marring her countenance.</p><p>So, not only was he stiff as a board and neat as a pin she concluded that he was also, unfortunately, as observant as a money lender during collection.</p><p>He walked back to the table and greeted her with a small bow. Not nearly as deep as the one yesterday, she noted with offense. She had already forgotten the change in her status and was unaware of the fact that this was a normal greeting of pleasant people in England and that he was trying to accustom her to its practice.</p><p>“Good morning Diana.”</p><p>She did not so much as a nod in his direction, but that name stuck in her throat like a stone. Instead, she raised her chin into the air with defiant pride and stared regally at the wall past his head.</p><p>Seemingly undisturbed by her rudeness he took his place at the table and began to uncover the various dishes on the tray.</p><p>The smell of sausages wafted to her nose as the steam rose from the plates, making her stomach growl in response.</p><p>He eyed her amusedly and set a large portion of the food in front of her and then commenced to enjoy his breakfast.</p><p>She was angry that this undeserving foreigner hadn’t taken notice of her martyred refusal of food, but it did smell tempting, and she was starving!</p><p>She hadn’t eaten since the morning before and now she was so ravenous that even this bland fair of what she assumed was typical English cuisine looked appealing.</p><p>Her resolve crumbling, she began to eat with gusto, shoveling food into her mouth with impressive speed.</p><p>She completely ignored the silverware, not understanding its purpose and not caring to discover it.</p><p>Bruce was knowledgeable of this foreign practice of eating with one’s hands so the sight of it wasn’t shocking. In fact, he was impressed at how immaculately clean she was able to keep herself during the process. But it did bring to mind the massive amount of work they had to do to get her ready to meet her family. He knew they would be happy to see her in any state but Diana would feel uncomfortable and out of her element enough already without having to worry about her table manners.</p><p>For now, though he decided to let her enjoy her meal in peace.</p><p>Diana devoured the last of the biscuits that she felt personally were hard enough to be used as projectiles and began to look around for a way to clean her hands. To her surprise, she saw that there were no finger bowls but instead, a piece of white cloth folded neatly on the table. Supposing it was better than nothing she vigorously wiped her fingers on the napkin but did not feel that her hands were sufficiently clean.</p><p>Looking across the table she noticed that the Captain was still eating his food and felt slightly embarrassed at being the first one finished.</p><p>They sat in silence for a time before she broke it with a most interesting yet unexpected question.</p><p>“Are you my father’s servant?”</p><p>Bruce quickly swallowed his food and wiped his hands on the napkin; sensing that the meal was at an end, and answered her question, and prepared for many more.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>He was prepared to explain the whole situation to her entirely but before he got a chance she blurted out the second inquiry, which was much more worrisome than the first.</p><p>“Are you his son then?”</p><p>Bruce looked at her in surprise, trying to recall anything that could have led her to believe he could be her brother.</p><p>“No, Diana, we have different surnames.”</p><p>“What was your name again?”</p><p>“My name is Bruce Wayne, and yours is Diana Princeton. So, you understand I am not your brother?”</p><p>The teenager waved his statement away with nonchalant wisdom.</p><p>“Of course, I understand that you can’t be my <em>full</em> brother. But perhaps are you his illegitimate son?”</p><p>She felt no embarrassment with this statement but only a slight annoyance at his ignorance of the meaning of her question, she just wanted to understand who he was.</p><p>Bruce, however, was shocked at her bluntness, ladies simply did not speak with such frankness.</p><p>“No, I am not an illegitimate son.”</p><p>Diana’s brow knitted in frustration as her agitation and uncertainty grew.</p><p>“Then who are you?”</p><p>“I am…”</p><p>She stood with a jerk knocking over the chair, her face was angry and the confusion she was feeling radiated from her like heat.</p><p>“What are you doing here? Why hasn’t my father come for me? You said he wanted me back why isn’t he here?”</p><p>“Diana please if you would just calm down and listen…”</p><p>“NO! I don’t know you nor can I trust you, we are not family!”</p><p>“In a way we are.”</p><p>She stopped at that, interest replacing her anger.</p><p>“We are? How?”</p><p>“Well not you and I directly, but your cousins are married to my distant cousins. Also, our families have always been close.”</p><p>The confusion was back.</p><p>“But why are you here? Why didn’t my father come for me?”</p><p>Bruce sighed, this wasn’t how he had wanted this conversation to begin.</p><p>Maneuvering his large frame through the confined space with surprising grace he managed to set her fallen chair back to rights.</p><p>“Diana, please, sit down.”</p><p>His voice was so kind and gentle that she felt herself being put at ease. He had such a soothing voice, deep and rich.</p><p>She sat down whilst he pushed in her chair for her. Walking slowly back to the other side of the table he took his seat once more. He was so tall that Diana noted that there were only a few inches between the top of his head and the room’s low ceiling when he stood at his full height.</p><p>He clasped his hands in front of him on the polished table and stared at his fingers intently. Then he raised his piercing blue eyes to hers.</p><p>“Diana, your father is dead.”</p><p>She tilted her head quizzically to the side as she pursed her lips in thought.</p><p>“He died five years ago, the doctors said it was his heart.”</p><p>She didn’t seem sad, but then Bruce reminded himself that she had no memory of the man and until just yesterday had absolutely no idea of his existence at all.</p><p>“But, you said I had a family in England. They want me back, that’s what you said…if he’s dead, who wants me?”</p><p>To reassure her he took her hand in his. This gesture was completely out of character for him but with all his reserved ways and steely demeanor, Bruce Wayne hated to see any living thing suffer. She, of course, had no knowledge of the significance of this gesture but was only aware that for the second time in her life a man was touching her.</p><p>“Diana you do have a family, a large family, and they want you with them more than anything.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“Your mother had two sisters. An older half-sister Mary, and a younger full-sister Martha. You are going to live with your Aunt Martha.”</p><p>He retrieved a roll of parchment from the desk and handed it to her.</p><p>“This will help explain things, your Aunt Mary made it for you.”</p><p>He helped her unroll the paper and hold down the edges. Mary had made an entire family tree for Diana to study. It looked quite detailed to Diana’s eyes but she would have been surprised to learn of the massive amount of personal restraint Mary had to employ to keep from adding any unnecessary relatives that might hinder Diana’s learning of those who were now going to be a part of her life.</p><p>Diana eagerly studied the ink lines and names, intensely curious about the people she saw written there, trying to imagine what they looked like, what they were like.</p><p>Bruce began to point to various characters and offer details to her mental depictions.</p><p>“Here is your grandmother, Diana Lennox, you were named after her.”</p><p>She looked at the name in wonder. Suddenly her name became special in her mind and the distaste she had held for it began to disappear.</p><p>“And here is her first husband Charles Chatsworth, Earl of Rothsburg. He was your Aunt Mary’s father.”</p><p>Diana nodded her head intently following his finger with her eyes as it moved along the lines.</p><p>“Now, Mary wed Captain Benjamin Lance and they have one daughter, your cousin, Dinah. She’s 21. She married my 3<sup>rd</sup> cousin once removed, Oliver Queen, Marquess of Rolland. He is the heir to a Dukedom which means one day Dinah will be a Duchess.”</p><p>That meant nothing to her and she wished he would stop slowing down the explanations with unimportant details.</p><p>“Who’s that?”</p><p>“That is your grandfather, Edward Lennox, Viscount of Cheswick. He and your grandmother had two daughters, first your mother, Hippolyta, here, and your Aunt Martha, here.”</p><p>“Are these her children?” Diana asked eagerly.</p><p>“Yes, Martha married Jonathan Kent, Earl of Lonworth, and they had two children your cousins Clark, who is 24, and Caroline who is 9, but among the family, she is called Kara.”</p><p>“Why were there no children between them? Did my aunt not want more children?”</p><p>“No, your aunt loves children, she and your uncle did, in fact, have several other children but none of them survived infancy.”</p><p>“Why did none of my relations come with you?”</p><p>“When I left your Uncle Jonathan was seriously ill and Clark had to stay behind to help his mother care for him. I received word several weeks ago that he had died. I penciled in the date.”</p><p>“So, she is a widow now.”</p><p>“Yes, Martha is now the Dowager Countess of Lonworth. Your cousin Clark assumed the title of Earl upon his father’s death and his wife Lois is now the Countess. Lois is actually my 3<sup>rd</sup> cousin and Oliver’s 3<sup>rd</sup> cousin once removed.”</p><p>“It is the same in Dagra. For the crown prince to inherit the sultan must first die, I find that sad. It must put significant strain on a relationship to know that your heir is only waiting for your death.”</p><p>“I can assure you, Diana, that no amount of wealth or titles could make up for your cousin’s loss of a father, and I know that he would gladly trade it all to see him again.”</p><p>Bruce’s voice had turned stern and she felt bad. She hadn’t meant to imply that this cousin of hers was without feeling she was just trying to find comparisons between a way of life she understood and one that was unfamiliar. Wanting to change the subject Diana pointed to another name on the list.</p><p>“Who is this?”</p><p>“This is your father’s side of the family. As you can see you are the only daughter, of an only son, of an only son.”</p><p>“Clark’s father is dead so now he is an Earl and my father was a Duke and now he is dead so I am a Duke, yes?”</p><p>“I am afraid not. In England, the eldest son inherits the title.”</p><p>“But he did not have a son, see?”</p><p>She pointed to the paper as if all of this information was new to him too.</p><p>Putting a perfectly manicured nail down pointedly she made her case.</p><p>“No sons just one daughter. So that makes me a Duke.”</p><p>Bruce felt the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile as she raised her chin proudly and looked at the paper approvingly, confident in her own correctness.</p><p>“I am sorry but no. You have a title, as the daughter of a Duke you are a Lady, but your father’s title has passed on to his closest male relative.”</p><p>Diana’s eyebrows swooped down like two black wings. Clearly, she did not think much of this idea of male priority, though it was a concept she was all too familiar with. But she had hoped things might be different in England.</p><p>“And who might that be?” She commanded a bit sharply.</p><p>With all good grace, Bruce showed her the offending persons on the parchment. She looked at the name with a critical eye. As if she could judge his character from the name and decide if he was indeed a worthy heir to the title that had passed her by.</p><p>“Elliot Hale, your 3<sup>rd</sup> cousin once removed.”</p><p>“Only 23, a bit young to be a Duke then.”</p><p>Bruce didn’t point out that only moments before she had felt more than ready for the role at the hardly ancient age of 15.</p><p>“He’s a good deal older than I was when I came into my inheritance.” He said, more to himself than her.</p><p>“And how old was that?”</p><p>He didn’t even pretend to have heard her but simply continued on.</p><p>“You can see here that your father has three first cousins on your grandmother’s side. They are the children of your great-aunt Adelaide. There are the Twins Artemis and Alexandra Troy, both 69, and their younger brother Philip, 51, the family calls him Zeus. He is an officer of her majesty’s navy and has two daughters, Donna 10, and Cassandra 7.”</p><p>“Did the Twins not marry?”</p><p>“No, they are the family’s official maiden aunts. They don’t care for men much, their brother included but his existence they at least suffer because he is family.”</p><p>She had become quiet again listening half-heartedly as he continued his explanations like a professor in a schoolroom.</p><p>“That concludes the living relatives, but if you are interested I can tell you about your Grandmother Diana’s Greek relations—”</p><p>“Enough!”</p><p>He had thought they were making headway. Thought she might be enjoying learning her genealogy.</p><p>But one look at her face showed every emotion within her. A torrent mixture too complex to describe.</p><p>“You wanted to know who was waiting for you. You can see for yourself. You have a large family anticipating your return.”</p><p>“I had a family……I had my mother’s love, my sister’s affections, friends, servants, and more relations then are written on that stupid piece of paper, I was happy!”</p><p>Her accent thickened with each word. With her desire to revert back to her old life.</p><p>“And now that's all taken away from me. I am going to people I don’t know. A culture I don’t understand. <em>Forcing me </em>to leave behind all those I love, and a way of life I belong too. And <em>you</em> expect me to be happy about it!”</p><p>The air was stale with her hatred.</p><p>Slowly he rolled up the parchment and placed it back in its assigned place.</p><p>Then he looked at her. He looked at her for a long time. When he spoke it was with serious, and dutiful frankness.</p><p>“No Diana, I do not expect you to be happy about it. But I do expect you to resign yourself to your future.”</p><p>She turned large eyes toward him and set her face into childlike resistance while a tear rolled down her cheek.</p><p>“No…I do not want to go to your country.”</p><p>He nodded his head.</p><p>“I know. But, you are going, and you had better prepare yourself. Nothing good comes from fighting the inevitable.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 4: One Way or Another</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 4: One Way or Another</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>The Knight’s Revenge, June 1843</em>
</p><p>“I WON’T! You cannot make me!”</p><p>Bruce Wayne considered himself a reasonable man, but with that said, his patience was wearing thin.</p><p>Three days! For three days she had been as obstinate as humanly possible.</p><p>Everything he tried to teach her she threw back in his face.</p><p>She refused to learn proper table manners, didn’t participate in the history lessons he had prepared, locked herself in her room, and most worrying of all, she had begun to refuse food. Declaring it unfit for human consumption and had even gone so far as to throw a biscuit at the porthole to see if it would crack…it hadn’t.</p><p>And now this latest power struggle was in regard to her attire.</p><p>She still wore the nightgown he had given her the first night and staunchly defied his demands that she exchange it for more proper arraignment.</p><p>“Diana, you will get dressed, or you will not be allowed to go up on deck.”</p><p>Fire blazed in her eyes as she drew herself up to her full height. Regal pride commanding every movement as she raised her chin in the air.</p><p>“You cannot tell me what to do! I am 15 years old, I am no child!”</p><p>Bruce’s countenance remained serious and checked.</p><p>“No, you are not a child. But you are not an adult either.”</p><p>Her face pinched in anger and he could see the calculations running through her mind as she scrambled for the upper hand.</p><p>He watched as her eyes snapped with a decision and a slight glow of success crept into her flushed cheeks.</p><p>With the grace of a gentleman, he waited for her to speak.</p><p>“Well, I am a Lady, you said so yourself, and you are a ship’s captain. Therefore, I outrank you. So, you must do as I say!”</p><p>This time he arched an eyebrow at her remarks.</p><p>The longer he waited to respond to her assumptions the more she began to doubt herself and he could see her twitch with uncertainty.</p><p>Concealing his own impatience behind a mask of indifference, he again explained to her what he viewed to be a rather elementary fact.</p><p>“I am responsible for you and I will not allow you to tramps about on deck in such a state of undress.”</p><p>“I am not ashamed!”</p><p>“But my crew will be. You are from a good family who has entrusted you to my care. Until I am able to return you to them I will not permit the sullying that good name by letting every sailor ogle you like a common harlot.”</p><p>This would have been a much more meaningful speech had she understood what the words sully and harlot meant.</p><p>In much plainer words he settled the matter.</p><p>“You will not leave this cabin until you are properly dressed.”</p><p>“BRUTE.....SCOURGE…..Umm….<em>UGH!</em>”</p><p>Having exhausted her limited knowledge of English slurs she reverted to her native tongue.</p><p>He waited for her to finish. This somehow made him even more infuriating.</p><p>Tears of frustration gathered. She blinked furiously trying to keep them at bay, silently cursing herself for allowing them to be there.</p><p>
  <em>Why didn’t he understand? Why didn’t anyone care?</em>
</p><p>Seeing her distress grow Bruce became concerned.</p><p>What was the cause of the current tyrant? He had no idea. It was a simple enough thing, getting dressed. But now his command had brought her from anger to near tears.</p><p>How he wished her aunt or one of her relations had been able to make the voyage. But they couldn’t so here he was, attempting to reason with this outraged teenager.</p><p>His childhood had been devoid of female influence, save the occasional uninterested servant.</p><p>Thus, he felt unequipped to handle the situation.</p><p>At last, she gave a glimpse into her thoughts.</p><p>“Why do you want to change me?”</p><p>Surprised, he did not respond at first.</p><p>She asked again.</p><p>“What is wrong with me that you want to make me a different person? I will not change! Not for these people, not for you, not for anyone! I am proud of who I am!”</p><p>Clarity split his thoughts.</p><p>“Diana, no wants you to change who you are.”</p><p>“Liar! Everything you want to change. The way I dress, the way I talk, making me eat with that horrible metal pointy thing!”</p><p>“Fork.”</p><p>“Fine a fork! Even my name. If these people really care for me then they should accept me the way I am!”</p><p>Bruce shook his head.</p><p>“I’m afraid you have misunderstood. Your family loves you, and they will continue to love you no matter what. You could show up on their doorstep naked and screaming and it would not change the way they feel.”</p><p>“Then why all the lessons?”</p><p>“Because <em>I</em> want this transition to be as easy as possible on <em>you</em>. England is different from anything you have known. Once we arrive your time and energy should be spent acquainting yourself with your relations. Not, in trying to master the basics of aristocratic manners. It is going to be awkward and foreign. You needn’t feel self-conscious about your knowledge of elementary interactions as well.”</p><p>She crossed her arms.</p><p>He could see she was unconvinced.</p><p>She did not possess the gift of concealing her emotions. Her face was a mirror of her thoughts and feelings.</p><p>
  <em>So Stubborn.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How am I supposed to convince her to give being English a chance?</em>
</p><p>“Wait,” He commanded.</p><p>Diana wondered where he thought she was going to go. She was all but imprisoned in this wooden coffin.</p><p>With measured strides, he made his way to the chest against the wall.</p><p>Diana watched with curiosity as he unlocked it and lifted the lid. She had observed the contents of his quarters many times over the last three days. It was her only source of amusement. But she hadn’t been allowed to look inside the chest.</p><p>She sensed it was something private and initially felt no desire to intrude. But after three days of being cooped up like a caged bird her curiosity about it reached sinful proportions.</p><p>What could have been inside it that required a lock? Perhaps treasure! Or more portraits like the one on his desk, or at the very least she hoped it contained some more intriguing books to read than those volumes on the shelf.</p><p>The truth was not nearly as interesting as her imaginings but she had no way of knowing this. Consequently, her prying mind could not relinquish it from her thoughts. Several times she had tried in vain to open it when he was not looking. Just this morning he had returned to the cabin to find her trying to pick the lock with that accursed fork.</p><p>Now here he was, opening it, and her curiosity would finally be satisfied.</p><p>Careful not to move, she had already learned that he missed nothing, his command to stay put was not to be taken lightly. As she stretched her neck to catch a glimpse of the forbidden objects.</p><p>Disappointment crashed down as she saw nothing. Nothing! But neat stacks of perfectly folded shirts and trousers.</p><p><em>Why it is nothing but a chest for clothing. </em>Bitter, she again crossed her arms in disgust.</p><p>Oddly, she mentally projected this disappointment onto the man himself. As if he and not herself had built up the contents of the chest in her mind only to destroy the illusion with the truth. It made her hate him all the more.</p><p>
  <em>Can’t he leave well enough alone? Why must he spoil everything!</em>
</p><p>She was preoccupied with her irrational hatred and failed to notice something else in the trunk. Not until he was standing before her did she see what he had retrieved.</p><p>Raising an eyebrow in bewilderment she looked at the box he held out. Waiting for her to take it, but she didn’t move. Dropping her arms to her side she continued to stare at.</p><p>It was made of sandalwood, overlaid with ivory and gold. Elaborate flowers and vines climbed its surface made of diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. It rested on delicate little golden feet with small diamond stars set into their design. The latch was gold and a matching key set in its lock, a silken cord of midnight blue hanging from its crescent-shaped bow.</p><p>She had seen that box many times, but she had never been allowed to touch it.</p><p>It was her mother’s, and always the most prized among her belongings.</p><p>It had been a gift from the Sultan to commemorate the birth of their first son, the crown prince. Inside it, Nura had kept her most precious jewels. Only she was allowed to open it. The key always hung on her wrist, never out of her sight. But here it was, on this dirty English ship. Far away from the splendor of the palace where it belonged.</p><p>It looked so out of place in the cabin. With its drab bed linen and unimaginative decor. It didn’t belong here, it shouldn’t be here…so why was it?</p><p>“Where did you get that?” she asked in a small voice.</p><p>Resting the casket in one hand he reached out and gently pulled her arms away from her sides and placed it in her hands.</p><p>“The servant girl asked me to give it to you.”</p><p>“<em>Fawzia</em>.” She whispered.</p><p>“Yes, I would have given it to you before, but I was afraid that in the heat of anger over being sent away you might have thrown it into the ocean.”</p><p>Her cheeks flushed a deep red and he knew his assumption had been correct as a look of shame settled on her face.</p><p>Reverently she held the chest in her still outstretched arms.</p><p>Then without warning she clutched it to her breast and bolted into her room, slamming the door behind.</p><p>Rushing to the cot she gently placed the ornate container on the bed and sat across from it.</p><p>Running the tips of her fingers over the jeweled flowers.</p><p>She opened the lid, inhaling the familiar scents of jasmine and frankincense that always clung to Nura.</p><p>Tears burned in her eyes as she ached to feel her mother’s embrace once more.</p><p>Looking inside the box she found a neat pile of brightly colored silks. Joyously she began to pull out one piece after the other. Tossing them into the air, watching them drift down around the cabin, and banish the gloomy colorless atmosphere of that tiny closet.</p><p>Purple, green, yellow, blue, orange, red! All the colors her sight had been craving to see now littered the floor in a beautiful display of disarray.</p><p>Smiling, she looked back into the chest.</p><p>At the bottom was a single piece of white silk, covering something.</p><p>She pulled back the fabric and gasped.</p><p>Reaching both hands into the chest she pulled out a pair of extraordinary twin silver bracelets.</p><p>Diana had never seen anything like them before. Holding them up to the faint light from the window she watched them sparkle in the sun.</p><p>They were perfection itself, and so smooth she felt they might slip from her hands. Suddenly feeling unworthy of such a priceless gift, she placed them rather hastily on the pillow and contented herself to look at them from a distance.</p><p>
  <em>Ami, what does this mean? Did you know of the Sultan’s plans?</em>
</p><p>She turned her eyes back to the chest, searching for answers.</p><p>Pulling out that last shred of silk she exposed the smoothed bottom of the case.</p><p>There, was a carefully folded piece of paper, and beside it a small wooden doll.</p><p>Picking up the figurine she turned it over in her hand.</p><p>Faded green eyes stared back at her and red flames of hair curved around the bobble’s head.</p><p>The doll did not smile, for her mouth had worn away many years ago, but her face was one Diana knew well.</p><p>Closing her hand around the doll she hugged her to herself, holding on tight.</p><p>“<em>Shayera.</em>”</p><p>That little doll had been hidden away amongst the many layers of silk, with no one having taken any notice of it. It had been an attempt to say goodbye, and a desperate plea to not be forgotten.</p><p>Laying the doll gently beside the bracelets she retrieved the folded paper.</p><p>Pulling her legs up under her she crossed her ankles and unfolded it.</p><p>The writing was shaky and poorly formed. Several words were barely legible but they had been written with great struggle and care for one so dearly loved.</p><p>
  <em>My most beloved and cherished daughter,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It is with a broken heart that I write to you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I have loved you as much as any mother could love a child, and I will continue to love you till my dying day. And even though you have been taken far away from me never doubt that love. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>My darling Amira, I pray that you will find happiness in your new life. For I could not live thinking that you were doomed to be unhappy. So please, my little sun and stars, be happy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                             With all my love,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                                                         Your mother.</em>
</p><p>Diana pressed the note to her cheek as the tears flowed down her face. Curling up in a ball she lay on the bed and sobbed.</p><p>It was done now, the last nail in the coffin had been struck.</p><p>She knew that she could never go back. Life would never be as it was before. She was Princess Amira no longer.</p><p>From now on she was Lady Diana Princeton, and, as her mother wished, she would do her best to be happy.</p><p>She had closed herself off in her room hours ago.</p><p>He had better things to do than wait for her to reemerge. An act that, if history repeated itself, could take days. But he had decided to remain faithfully in his cabin with one eye turned towards the door to her small room.</p><p>At present he sat at the table, back straight in the stiff chair, a volume of scientific discovery in his hands. His eyes skimmed the words without really seeing them. He knew them by heart.</p><p>BANG!</p><p>Bruce bolted out of his chair and raced to the door only to hesitate in front of it.</p><p>BANG!</p><p>The sound again resonated through the cabin. This time followed by the muffled sound of a woman’s voice hissing in a foreign tongue. He couldn’t understand the words but based on the tone took them to not be pleasant ones.</p><p>“Diana?”</p><p>BANG!</p><p>More curses.</p><p>Bruce knocked on the door with a large fist.</p><p>“Diana are you alright?”</p><p>“OH JUST GET IN HERE!”</p><p>Bursting through the door he found the room a complete disaster.</p><p>Various articles of women’s clothing mixed with squares of brightly colored fabrics covered the cabin. Standing in the middle of this whirlwind was a very irate 15-year-old girl.</p><p>Her cheeks flushed, she stood with her hands on her hips tapping her foot in frustration.</p><p>She was wearing a dove grey dress, the skirt of which was too long and gathered in uneven pleats on the floor. Even though the skirt was too long the sleeves were an awkward length hitting right above the wrist, and the tight collar was without embellishment.</p><p>Whoever had made that dress had no idea what they were doing.</p><p>Sheepishly looking at the floorboards she made a request.</p><p>“<em>I need your help</em>.”</p><p>She spoke so softly that he couldn’t quite catch the words.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>She sighed in surrender.</p><p>“I need your help…with the buttons. I cannot reach them all.”</p><p>A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he bowed his head so she would not see his amusement.</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>Picking up the skirt, she turned around as he threaded his way through the avalanche of clothing.</p><p>Using both hands, she lifted her mane of dark curls so the long row of buttons was visible.</p><p>Sure enough, in the middle of her back were five unhooked buttons she couldn’t have possibly reached on her own.</p><p>As he did up the buttons he noticed the bare skin of her back. Apparently, when he had said to get dressed she took that to mean she should put on <em>only</em> the dress.</p><p>Bruce groaned inwardly as he foresaw the painful conversation to come of him trying to explain the extent of female clothing to her.</p><p>But that could wait for another time.</p><p>“There.”</p><p>Dropping her hair she turned back around and made a fuss of trying to straighten the heavy woolen skirt.</p><p>She continued to stare sheepishly at the floor for several minutes, fidgeting with her clothing.</p><p>Finally, she took a deep breath and pushed a large section of hair away from her face so she could see more clearly.</p><p>“I want to…I feel I should…you should know that I…I…”</p><p>“Apology accepted.”</p><p>Her large eyes snapped up to look at his and she found a small smile on his face.</p><p>It wasn’t condescending, only polite.</p><p>Feeling relieved, she smiled back.</p><p>Bruce was struck by how beautiful she really was when happy.</p><p>“Thank you, Captain Wayne.”</p><p>“Please, Bruce.”</p><p>She nodded.</p><p>“Bruce. Now, what do I need to know to meet my family?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The Knight’s Revenge, July 1843</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Diana sat curled up at the small table in the captain’s cabin.</p><p>Concentrating on the book of English Bruce had given her to study.</p><p>She spent most of her days like this; going over endless charts and lists he had put together for her. She had been a faithful student and was proud of her progress. She could now rank all the levels of English nobility and even knew the names of many of the royal family.</p><p>Because Bruce was busy running the ship Diana only tended to see him during meals.</p><p>He would quiz her on studies and she would more often than not question him on life in England.</p><p>After dinner, he would disappear again and she would spend her evening alone.</p><p>In theory, she was supposed to be practicing her writing, or some such chore, but usually, she didn't.</p><p>She would browse through his limited selection of books, never finding any interesting enough to pick up.</p><p>She would tidy up the cabin, a task she would never have considered doing before. Of course, it was only ever her mess that needed tidying. Bruce always kept his belongings in militaristic order.</p><p>But mostly she would sit on her bed and imagine what it would be like to meet her family.</p><p>Unrolling the scroll she would look at each name over and over again. Pretending the other person was in the room she would practice introducing herself. Designing a multitude of different conversations that might take place.</p><p>She had grown accustomed to the solitude, but it was still lonely.</p><p>Loud banging noise from overhead made her jump and drop her book.</p><p>Bending down to pick it up she heard a rhythmic tapping on the boards overhead.</p><p>Curious, she placed the book on the table. Smoothing the pleats of her dress she scurried to where a small mirror hung on the wall.</p><p>Hastily she arranged her hair into a long braid and took a quick look at her face to make sure it was clean.</p><p>The noise had lessened now and seemed to be moving farther down the deck, away from the cabin.</p><p>Forgetting her boots, she preferred to not wear them anyway, she opened the door and climbed up the narrow staircase.</p><p>Cresting the last step she was met by a wonderful sight.</p><p>The entire deck was alive with music and laughter.</p><p>One of the crew had a fiddle and the rest had joined together in a lively country dance; stomping and traipsing across the ship without a care in the world.</p><p>A cool salty breeze pulled at her skirt adding an air of magic to the scene.</p><p>The song ending the men laughed and collapsed against the railings to catch their breath.</p><p>Diana began to applaud and all eyes turned to look at their unusual audience.</p><p>A lanky man with an acrobatic gait came up to her and bowed with grace.</p><p>“Welcome your Highness.”</p><p>She smiled and nodded in return.</p><p>“Thank you, Mister Grayson. What is happening?”</p><p>He straightened and smiled down at her.</p><p>He wasn’t as tall as Bruce but he still held the advantage of height over her, though not by much.</p><p>“The men were just passing the time, would you like to join us?”</p><p>The other crew members looked on eagerly. It would be a nice change to have a lady to dance with.</p><p>“Will you teach me?”</p><p>“Of course Princess.”</p><p>He held out his arm, Diana took it and allowed him to escort her into the midst of the gruff and unkempt looking passel of sailors.</p><p>The men cheered and Diana's smile grew in excitement.</p><p>“Play us a jig, Jim!” Hollard one of the older sailors who was missing most of his teeth.</p><p>“Pretty as ya please Fred,” Jim answered.</p><p>Pulling the bow across the fiddle’s strings with lively energy he coaxed out a tune.</p><p>“Come on Princess!”</p><p>The men cheered as they took their places.</p><p>“But what do I do?”</p><p>“Can’t be explained, you gotta jump in and try!”</p><p>The sailors whooped and hollered as they cheered her on. Shouting different steps and roaring with laughter as she stepped across her partner’s boots.</p><p>Her cheeks flush with color she picked up speed as her feet fell into the rhythm.</p><p>This was the most fun she had had in ages!</p><p>The music came to a halt and thunderous applause echoed in her ears as the men whistled and commanded her to take a bow.</p><p>Diana smiled and curtsied to her audience as a cry went up for another jig.</p><p>Jim shouted for them to take their places and this time the whole assembly abandoned the rails and lined up for the reel.</p><p>Joyous, Diana took her place front and center, ready to stomp and dance with the lot of them.</p><p>The sailors lobbied for the chance to be her partner and good-naturedly sulked when they had to wait their turn or instead dancing with one of their compatriots.</p><p>In the midst of the merriment, no one noticed Grayson return to man the helm.</p><p>The music struck up again.</p><p>Dancers grabbed arms and spun around in time to the tune.</p><p>Meanwhile, Bruce returned to deck from the haul and joined his first mate, observing the merrymaking below.</p><p>“What’s going on down there John?”</p><p>“The men are teaching the Princess how to turn a jig.”</p><p>John smiled at his friend but Bruce’s face remained stern.</p><p>“She isn’t a Princess.”</p><p>John raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“Isn’t she though? She was raised to be, just as I was raised to be a sailor, and you a Lord. I reckon that makes her one even if her blood doesn’t. What else can we be Captain? If not what we were raised to be?”</p><p>Bruce pondered that thought for a moment.</p><p>John, taking advantage of the all too familiar silence gave him some more food for thought.</p><p>“I know it isn’t my place to say so, Wayne." The closest John ever came to using Bruce’s Christian name. "But it’s downright criminal the way you’ve kept that poor girl cooped up down there like she was in a cage.”</p><p>“I’ve done no such thing.”</p><p>“Haven’t you? Kept her locked up with all those infernal books and lessons. It’s a wonder she hasn’t gone mad!”</p><p>Bruce began to protest but John cut him off.</p><p>“Now I know why you’ve done it and your intentions are good. Sailors aren’t fitting company for a young lady. But I’ll be damned if they’re not better than no company at all! She’s a young girl Wayne, not some doll that can be put on a shelf. She’s spirited and curious…”</p><p>“More like stubborn and selfish.”</p><p>John laughed.</p><p>“Aye, a bit. But who isn’t stubborn in their own way? We all are! Some just go about it differently than others. She doesn’t beat around the bush I’ll give you that. What that girl thinks she says. But selfish?”</p><p>John pondered that whilst he and Bruce watched her dancing with the crew.</p><p>“No, I don’t believe she’s any more selfish than any other child. And if you think about it, why shouldn’t she be? She was raised where anything she desired was at her fingertips, surely you can relate to that. No, give it time Captain and it will pass. She has a kind heart that one. Let her see something of someone who needs her as much as she needs them and I wager she’ll walk across hot coals for ‘em.”</p><p>“And how long do you believe we will have to wait till that happens?” asked Bruce.</p><p>John gave him a knowing smile.</p><p>“Oh, I’d say not too long. Just until someone catches her fancy. Ain't nothing quite like young love.”</p><p>Bruce scoffed.</p><p>“Honestly John she’s only a child. If we have to wait for her to fall in love to behave herself I am afraid we’re in for a rather long wait.”</p><p>Grayson didn’t respond but continued to watch the dancing with a bemused smile.</p><p>The music picked up the pace until they were all spinning like tops!</p><p>Diana looked down and watched her red skirt flail about her.</p><p>
  <em>What glorious fun!</em>
</p><p>The music abruptly stopped.</p><p>Several of the crew collapsed in fits of laughter as they tried to regain their breath.</p><p>She laughed between gasps as she put a hand to her side, trying to put pressure on the slight ache forming.</p><p>“Another!”</p><p>“Ya play another one!”</p><p>the familiar chorus began to cry before being interrupted by an old-timer.</p><p>“Stop! Stop! Hold on there!”</p><p>The men obeyed and watched him.</p><p>The old man looked at Diana and leaned in, eyeing her with suspicion.</p><p>“Do ye know how to waltz missy?”</p><p>Diana couldn’t keep the smile off her face even though this stranger seemed so very serious.</p><p>Still catching her breath she couldn’t answer so instead she shook her head no.</p><p>The sailor nodded his head as if this was the answer he expected and slapped his knee.</p><p>Turning to his fellow seafarers he put it to them.</p><p>“We can’t be neglecting our duty to the Princess! Every proper gal needs to know how to waltz!”</p><p>A roar of approval went up amongst the crowd.</p><p>“Charlie!” bellowed the old sea dog.</p><p>“Teach the lass how ta waltz!”</p><p>Charlie stood with pride. He was a short little man who came up to her shoulders with a sprig of ginger-colored hair and freckles all across his face. His arms and legs were thin as poles but his belly stuck out like a proud little basket.</p><p>With great dignity, Charlie swaggered up to Diana, who had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at his preposterous appearance.</p><p>Charlie bowed and Diana curtsied as Bruce had shown her.</p><p>Then the little man extended a hand towards her.</p><p>She had no idea what to do with that so she took it and kissed the back of his hand as Bruce had done when she first arrived on the ship.</p><p>The men howled at that and teasingly booed little Charlie who blushed a deep rosy red.</p><p>Embarrassed Diana turned to the closest man.</p><p>“Did I do something wrong?”</p><p>The man was too busy laughing to answer her and so waved his hand.</p><p>Charlie regained his dignity and explained.</p><p>“No Princess, you take my hand like this.”</p><p>He pulled her in closer to him.</p><p>She could see completely over his head.</p><p>Showing her how to position her hands and feet they stood ready, and a bit stiff, a good foot apart. Having to stretch their arms to reach one another.</p><p>Poor Charlie had only danced the waltz once with a girl from Yorkshire. But still, he was the most experienced of the group and no one contradicted him on his hopeless lack of form.</p><p>“Now we count, 1, 2, 3, and 1, 2, 3, and…”</p><p>Charlie made complete eye contact with his feet.</p><p>Diana, taking her cue from him, did the same.</p><p>The men were enjoying the scene and began to hum out a waltz while Jim played the fiddle.</p><p>The movements were jerky and rough and Diana found it hard to concentrate with Charlie counting under his breath. Thinking maybe it would help to join him she began to count out loud as well, soon all the sailors joined in.</p><p>“1, 2, 3, and 1, 2, 3, and 1, 2, 3, and 1,”</p><p>It began to get easier as Jim played above the noise but poor Charlie’s legs were so short that her strides could never quite match his.</p><p>It was an amusing sight but not very practical for teaching.</p><p>As she concentrated she failed to notice that the others, even the violin, had fallen silent.</p><p>“1, 2, 3, and 1, 2, 3, and 1, 2, 3, and…”</p><p>“May I cut in?”</p><p>Diana looked up to see that Charlie had stopped dancing, his eyes big as bowls.</p><p>Turning around to the voice she saw the deep blue eyes of Bruce.</p><p>With a charming smile, he bowed his handsome head and the sun shone off his well-combed dark hair.</p><p>She curtsied.</p><p>Leaning in slightly he spoke softly.</p><p>“May I have this dance?”</p><p>She nodded her head.</p><p>Smiling he straightened and motioned to Jim.</p><p>Who, with a large smile on his face, began to play a hauntingly beautiful waltz.</p><p>Taking one large hand he held her smaller one gently, but firmly, in his. The other he placed on her waist and out of instinct more than knowledge she put her hand on his shoulder.</p><p>Then, with what she found a devastating smile, he whisked her about the deck.</p><p>The beauty of the music played in her ears blocking out all other sounds.</p><p>She did not count or look at her toes. All she had to do was follow as he guided them across the floor.</p><p>It felt like flying.</p><p>She wanted this moment to go on forever, just the two of them, dancing.</p><p>Silence rested as all watched the pair.</p><p>His eyes bore into hers and she felt the overwhelming desire to be even closer to him. Their bodies pressed against each other and their faces were so close they almost touch.</p><p>
  <em>By the stars but he was a handsome man. </em>
</p><p>Even with her limited knowledge, she knew she had never seen his equal, none could possibly exist. He was perfect!</p><p>The song came to an end.</p><p>With a smile he let her go and bowed once more.</p><p>Diana felt an ache in her stomach at the moment ending.</p><p>The whole ship erupted in thunderous applause but she did not hear them. She was too consumed with watching him as he walked away.</p><p>
  <em>Oh,</em>
  <em> why did it have to end…</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The Knight’s Revenge, August 1843</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A loud crack of thunder tore Diana from her slumber.</p><p>Bolting upright in the small bed, shock and fear shot up her spine.</p><p>It was pitch black, the sound of rain beating against the ship and waves ramming against the side pounded in her skull.</p><p>Like a scared cat, she threw back the covers and bolted for the door. Tearing it open.</p><p>“Bruce?”</p><p>It was too dark to see.</p><p>“Bruce!”</p><p>Feeling her way in the dark she walked to the porthole, fighting against the jerking and rolling of the ship.</p><p>Gripping onto the edge of the glass she peered out at the sea.</p><p>Lightning flashed and a giant wall of water crashed into the side of the ship.</p><p>Screaming she covered her head with her arms.</p><p>
  <em>I am not going to die trapped down here!</em>
</p><p>She ran for the main door.</p><p>Opening it she was pushed back by a powerful gust of wind and cold rain that soaked through her nightdress.</p><p>Using all her strength she pulled the door closed behind her and ventured out into the dark.</p><p>Getting on her hands and knees she crawled up the staircase. All the while fighting against the downpour of rain and bombarding wind that tried to force her back!</p><p>Digging her nails into the wood she pulled herself up onto the deck as another clash of thunder rippled across the sky.</p><p>The wind was stronger up here and the ship lurched and tossed violently in the storm. Threatening at any moment to throw her back down the narrow stairs.</p><p>Unclenching her fist, which had begun to shake with cold, she stretched out her arms and tried to feel her way along the deck. Screaming while her throat grew hoarse.</p><p>“BRUCE!”</p><p>“BRUCE!”</p><p>A bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating the deck.</p><p>Men ran in a panic tying down barrels, unraveling sails, and battling against the all-powerful sea.</p><p>Voices yelled but she couldn’t understand them.</p><p>She tried again to call his name only to have the howling wind force the sound back down her throat.</p><p>“BRUCE!”</p><p>The ship jerked and her feet slid on the boards.</p><p>Grasping at anything she grabbed a barrel and tried to steady herself.</p><p>Rain plastering her hair over her eyes.</p><p>She had begun to shake uncontrollably and fear froze her voice in her throat.</p><p>The wind continued to beat against her as she clutched to the barrel.</p><p>It began to slide!</p><p>
  <em>No, NONONONONONONO!</em>
</p><p>A strong hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around with sickening speed.</p><p>Lightning burned the sky and she stared into the furious face of Bruce Wayne.</p><p>“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?!”</p><p>His shouting voice broke over the might of the storm and beat in her skull louder than the thunder.</p><p>He dropped her arm and staggered against the swaying deck.</p><p>She grappled for the barrel, clawing its rim with her nails.</p><p>A terrified yell echoed through the wind.</p><p>Again the wind beat against her as she clutched the barrel for dear life.</p><p>It slid as the ship rocked with a violent wave.</p><p>Losing her grip she felt the barrel disappear beneath her hands and tried to yell for help, but no sound came out.</p><p>A terrifying howl echoed through the wind.</p><p>She craned her neck to see.</p><p>A wall of water crashed down over the deck.</p><p>She reached for the barrel but it had vanished!</p><p>Water filled her lungs as her feet lifted off the deck.</p><p>Everything was black.</p><p>She reached out, desperately trying to find anything to hang onto.</p><p>
  <em>Don’t let me die! Please don’t let me die!</em>
</p><p>The wave slammed her back down against the deck; knocking the wind out of her lungs and filling her mouth with seawater.</p><p>Her chest and esophagus burned as she gulped for air, salt stinging her nose and eyes.</p><p>Clawing at the boards she tried to hold on but the water began to pull her back with it.</p><p>She opened her mouth to scream but more water forced itself down her throat.</p><p>A hand grabbed her under the arm and wrestle her back from the ocean's pull.</p><p>She screamed in pain as her arm strained at the shoulder.</p><p>Coughing and sputtering as the rough hands pulled her up.</p><p>Picking her up he marched through the rain and wind.</p><p>Back down the narrow stairs, he beat open the door as the boat lurched again causing him to throw her inside.</p><p>Still gasping and coughing she turned to look and saw red-hot anger on his face.</p><p>“STAY HERE!”</p><p>He forced the door shut and she was alone.</p><p>The cabin felt extremely quiet, but she could still hear the wind whistle and taunt as the walls groaned against the pressure.</p><p>Terrified and sick she grabbed a nearby bucket used for scraps and retched into it.</p><p>Exhausted she curled up in a ball on the carpet and began to cry and shake from the cold.</p><p>Covering her ears with her hands, trying to bloke out the crying wind.</p><p>She had the horrible sense that she had been here before. On a ship drowning in a storm. The wind whistling outside, waves threatening to drag her down to a watery grave.</p><p>
  <em>Make it stop, please, oh please make it stop!</em>
</p><p>The nightmare that she couldn't remember continued as she cried on the rug.</p><p>
  <em>Make it stop, please papa, make it stop...</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Hours passed before Bruce returned to the cabin.</p><p>When he did he was so tired he could hardly stand.</p><p>He opened the door and saw her sleeping in a ball on the floor, still sopping wet.</p><p>Sighing he sat down on the rug next to her.</p><p>She couldn't sleep here....he'd didn't want to wake her.....he'd just carry her back to her bed.</p><p>He touched her shoulder and her eyes snapped open.</p><p>Scrabbling like she'd been burned she sat up and backed herself against his bunk.</p><p>“Are we dead?”</p><p>She said it so earnestly that he couldn’t help himself. He began to laugh as he half fell onto the floor.</p><p>The laughter continued until tears streamed down his face and he coughed for air.</p><p>Diana stared at him bewildered.</p><p>Thinking about what she'd said she began to smile.</p><p>They laughed until they were too tired to laugh anymore.</p><p>“No Diana, we are not dead.”</p><p>“What a relief.”</p><p>Becoming more serious.</p><p>“What possessed you to come up on deck in the middle of a storm? You could have died!”</p><p>Diana's cheeks burned red.</p><p>“I-I don’t know, I didn’t want to die down here.”</p><p>“So you thought you would die up there?!?”</p><p>“NO! I don’t know, it was instinct.”</p><p>“To run headlong into the fight without thinking?”</p><p>“Yes.” She whispered</p><p>Bruce shook his head.</p><p>“Who else would be afraid of dying so they try to face death? Diana, you are a wonder of a woman.”</p><p>She beamed, liking the sound of the title.</p><p>“It wasn’t a compliment.”</p><p>“I know, but I am taking it as one."</p><p>“Of course you would. <em>Sigh</em>, come on, might as well go back to bed.”</p><p>“Wait!”</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>“Let’s talk for a bit.”</p><p>Bruce groaned.</p><p>“Diana, we can talk tomorrow.”</p><p>“No, we can’t. Tomorrow you will be busy being Captain, and you will give me lots of work to do and by the time it is all done it will be time to go to bed again. No! We talk now!”</p><p>He did not care to argue so he raised his hands in surrender.</p><p>“Fine, what would you like to talk about?”</p><p>She paused.</p><p>“Well, tell me about your family. What are your parents like?”</p><p>It took him a very long time to answer.</p><p>Diana worried she had offended him.</p><p>
  <em>Perhaps in England men do not talk about their families.</em>
</p><p>“My parents are dead, like yours. I have no brothers or sisters, just distant cousins. I was raised by my guardian Alfred Pennyworth. The finest man you’ll ever meet.”</p><p>“How did they die?”</p><p>He looked away.</p><p>Reaching out a hand she placed it over his and squeezed it in comfort.</p><p>She expected him to pull away but he didn’t.</p><p>He left his hand sitting beneath hers like he didn’t even know it was there.</p><p>Ever so softly he squeezed her hand back.</p><p>“I was eight, a mugger shot them.”</p><p>Moving his hand away from he turned back to her.</p><p>“Anything else?”</p><p>“Um,….is there anything you would like to know about me?”</p><p>Again he looked surprised.</p><p>“I know about you.”</p><p>“You know <em>who </em>I am, but you don’t know <em>me</em>.”</p><p>He slowly nodded.</p><p>“Alright….....what do you enjoy doing for fun?”</p><p>Diana’s face lit up.</p><p>“Oh, I love to ride!”</p><p>“Really? I wouldn’t think life in a harem would present many opportunities for horsemanship.”</p><p>Diana raised her chin and smiled.</p><p>“Well, it would seem you don’t know everything Captain Wayne.”</p><p>Bruce acknowledged his defeat with a mock half-bow, the best he could do while sitting.</p><p>“So are you any good?”</p><p>“Of course!”</p><p>Bruce laughed.</p><p>“Then you’ll enjoy Riverfoot Hall. Your late uncle was one of the best breeders in the county. The stables there is the envy of every family in England.”</p><p>“Are there really so many horses?”</p><p>“Yes, I dare say you will have the pick of the country.”</p><p>Diana popped up on her knees.</p><p>“You mean I can have one!?!”</p><p>“Well, you will have to ask your aunt. But seeing as how your cousin Kara has three ponies I would be surprised if you weren't given a mount of your own.”</p><p>Unbridled happiness shone from her features as she began to imagine the joy of having a horse all her own.</p><p>“Shayera and I used to race. There was this…uh…what's the word? Garden! Connected to the palace that was large enough to ride in. It was mostly used for training, but on occasion, the women were allowed to use it. We had so much fun. Shayera was always faster than I was, it was like she was flying. She could do tricks too. She used to stand on the horse's back and balance as it ran. It scared poor old Fadeela to death.”</p><p>Diana smiled fondly at the memory but Bruce’s smile faded.</p><p> </p><p>“Who is Shayera?”</p><p> </p><p>Her face fell.</p><p> </p><p>She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on the top.</p><p>Bruce’s heart constricted with guilt as he watched her eyes mist over and her black lashes flutter in an attempt to keep the tears at bay.</p><p>When she did speak it was in a much quieter tone.</p><p>“She is my sister……..and my dearest friend.”</p><p>They sat in silence for a while, mourning.</p><p>“Do you have more sisters?”</p><p>“The Sultan has 20 children. His pride, 16 sons, I only ever saw them at formal occasions. But I have four sisters. Sultana is the eldest, she was married off to a general when I was very young. She still visits when her husband grows tired of her. Shani is next. She is the Sultan’s favorite, and she never let any of us forget it. We used to call her the royal elephant because she had grown so fat. Nadira’s next. She and Shani have the same mother but that doesn’t make Shani any more pleasant to Nadira…. Nadira has a wicked sense of humor, she is always setting little traps for the servants and other women, <em>especially Shani</em>. She used to let me and Shayera in on her jokes. One time we convinced Maha for a whole month that her rooms were haunted. (<em>soft laughter</em>.) Shayera is the youngest, besides me. She is wonderful! No one tells Shayera what to do……… She never let anyone talk down to me because I was the youngest, <em>or</em>, not Nura’s natural born daughter…….. She punched Shani in her fat nose once for calling me an unwanted pup.”</p><p>Smiled she remembered the happy times.</p><p>“When Shani went whining to the Sultan trying to blame me Shayera followed her and loudly told him the truth until she was screaming over Shani’s tears. In the end, Shayera was the one punished but she said she was glad because it was about time she got noticed.”</p><p>Diana’s laughter faded away the two sat in silence once again.</p><p>The minutes stretched by, the quiet continued.</p><p>“I'm sorry Diana.”</p><p>She looked at him with those captivating azure eyes.</p><p>“What for?”</p><p>“I am sorry you've been taken away from them.”</p><p>She looked away and down at the rug.</p><p>Bruce felt sure she must hate him. Hate him for being a part of the act that separated her from her family.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Bruce pushed himself off the floor and Diana watched as he opened his desk.</p><p>Searching for a minute through his well-organized belongings he turned back to her.</p><p>He offered her a hand and helped her from the floor, her eyes wide with curiosity.</p><p>Taking her hand he placed in it a wooden pencil and a thick sheet of white parchment.</p><p>Diana looked at the gift, not knowing what to make of it.</p><p>“To make a lineage tree like the one your aunt made…I don’t want you to forget them. Write them all down so that you will always remember your life before England.”</p><p>She stared at the gift, then, she turned her face up, and he saw her eyes sparkling with glee.</p><p>Throwing her arms around his neck she hugged him tight and gave him a peck on the cheek.</p><p>“Oh, thank you, Bruce, thank you!”</p><p>Taking her new treasures she flew off to her tiny room and closed the door.</p><p>Standing alone Bruce put a hand to his cheek where she had kissed it. An amused smile curled his lips before he blew out the candle and went to bed.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The Knight’s Revenge, September 1843</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The wind pulled at her skirt and a thick fog settled all around as the ship pulled into the dock.</p><p>Her eyes struggled to make out the shadowy silhouettes of buildings and people.</p><p>It felt like a stone had lodged in her throat, growing with each moment, making it impossible to breathe.</p><p>
  <em>This is England.</em>
</p><p>After so many months they had finally arrived.</p><p>A tall muscular man with black hair and dark blue eyes stood next to her. Eyeing the oncoming scene with his natural reserve.</p><p>“Welcome to London Princess.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 5: Land of Unknown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 5: Land of Unknown</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>London England, September 1843.</em>
</p><p>“If you break that vase, I’ll have your head!”</p><p>“Y-Yes my Lady.”</p><p>The maid coward before her petite mistress who stood barely over 5 feet but seemed much taller.</p><p>Lois gathered up her skirts and spun on her heels, marching down the hall.</p><p>Seeing another servant, she again lashed out at an undeserving victim.</p><p>“Dust those drapes correctly! Don’t just fling them about!”</p><p>“Yes, milady.”</p><p>“And wash the windows while you’re at it.”</p><p>“B-but…”</p><p>“What!?!”</p><p>“But if I open the window to clean it the rain will get in.”</p><p>Lois glared at the man in disgust.</p><p>“Then get a bucket!”</p><p>She stomped off, leaving the maid in tears and the footman swearing under his breath.</p><p>She continued down the hallway until she came to a door where another maid waited for her. Her arms piled high with towels and her little-starched cap quivering with dread.</p><p>She curtsied as Lois approached, keeping her eyes downcast.</p><p>Lois eyed her with contempt. She could never stand a coward.</p><p>Rolling her eyes, she retrieved the keyring from her waist and opened the door.</p><p>The maid curtsied once more and scurried inside with Lois hot on her heels. Setting the towels in the cupboard she bolted from the room, forgetting to ask if there was anything else her mistress needed.</p><p>Lois rolled her eyes again.</p><p>
  <em>Stupid child.</em>
</p><p>She looked about the room and felt disappointment swell within her.</p><p><em>This will never do!</em> <em>It is far too juvenile if only there was time to make another room ready.</em></p><p>Her violet eyes scanned the chamber. Taking in the pink walls and bedding. It was small, it was childish, it was…all wrong!</p><p>Why had she chosen this one? The girl was 15, not 5.</p><p>
  <em>Oh well, too late to do anything about that now.</em>
</p><p>Exiting the room, she closed the door behind her, leaving it unlocked.</p><p>Walking through her fine London house Lois felt an irritating despair begin to weigh down on her soul.</p><p>Everything annoyed her, the servants, her husband, even the house itself.</p><p>Lois had never been the most congenial person but lately, her bad moods had increased exponentially. To the point where even she was annoyed with herself.</p><p>She made life a living hell for all those around her, using her sharp tongue and quick wit to abuse anyone who so much as breathed in her direction.</p><p>The servants coward before her and even her husband had begun to ebb out of her way. Trying to give her some much-needed space for her tempers to roam free. But all that had done was make her feel more isolated.</p><p>The problem was that she was bored. Frightfully and painfully bored.</p><p>She had not been married a full year and already she found the proper and 'desirable' life of an English housewife so horrendously dull and mind-numbing that she genuinely feared for her sanity.</p><p>The only thing that had managed to distract her from this was the anticipated arrival of her husband’s cousin.</p><p>She had scoured the house in preparation for her arrival. No detail was too small or insignificant to take her notice.</p><p>For a while, these preparations proved to lift her spirits. Unfortunately, the time it took for the girl to arrive was much greater than the time needed to plan her arrival.</p><p>So, boredom had reestablished itself and Lois was counting down the seconds until it could be lifted again.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Downstairs,</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Clark Kent finished counting the bills and held them out to the sobbing maid who snatched them from his hands. She bobbed an odd curtsy and sniveled her way out of the room.</p><p>Clark let out a heavy sigh as he sat down in his favorite chair.</p><p>
  <em>That’s the third one this week.</em>
</p><p>Keeping a maid employed at the London house of the Earl and Countess of Lonworth should have been an easy task…But it wasn’t.</p><p>Despite the fact that servants in the house received decent wages most didn’t last more than a day. The few who had made up a small regiment of servants who had more grit than a military platoon.</p><p>Gertrude was the latest in a long line of domestic servants who hadn’t been able to handle his wife’s domineering personality.</p><p>Clark smiled as he thought of Lois.</p><p>He adored his wife, she was everything he was not; determined, witty, and even a little brash. Not that he wasn’t capable of those skills but they were not his natural inclination.</p><p>He preferred a quiet existence.</p><p>He wished nothing more than to be a traditional country gentleman. No airs or graces. A man whose greatest joy in life was coming home at the end of the day to his well-run house, his beloved wife, and to sit by the fire reading the paper.</p><p>He was aware that these dreams were not shared by his wife. But, even though that did cause problems, he would not wish her to be anything other than what she was. He had been drawn to her fire and would never have wanted to see it extinguished.</p><p>The clock over the mantle struck four and he retrieved his gold pocket watch to verify the time.</p><p>
  <em>They’ll be here any minute.</em>
</p><p>Taking another deep breath Clark removed his circular glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.</p><p>Leaning forward he rested his chin on his fists and stared into the fireplace.</p><p>She had been so little the last time he had seen her, barely more than an infant.</p><p>Clark smiled as he remembered arguing with Dinah during his Aunt Hippolyta’s pregnancy on whether their new cousin would be a boy or a girl. Dinah had won. He could honestly say that his disappointment had evaporated the minute he saw the new baby.</p><p>She had been a bright-eyed thing with raven curls and a pair of extraordinary azure eyes.</p><p>He could still see the toothless grin she had given him as her tiny fist grabbed his finger with surprising strength.</p><p>
  <em>But she isn’t a baby anymore. </em>
</p><p>His smile faded.</p><p>They knew nothing of her now. For thirteen years they had thought her dead and now she had come back to life.</p><p>
  <em>I wonder what she is like?</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The Carriage,</em>
</p><p> </p><p>For the millionth time, Diana straightened the folds of her skirt and reached up to touch her collar.</p><p>Bruce noticed her nervous behavior but was disinclined to say anything. He continued to watch out the carriage window, even though the torrential downpour made it impossible to make anything out.</p><p>He was glad he had insisted that Clark not meet them at the dock. She needed as much time as possible to prepare herself.</p><p>He didn’t burden this time with the useless assurance that everything would be fine. He had no idea how this would all go and he knew that no matter what he said she wouldn’t hear him. She was too busy thinking to hear anything he said.</p><p>As for her part, Diana barely knew he was there at all.</p><p>She tried watching out the window to distract herself from her crippling anxiety but that served only to depress her more.</p><p>Bruce was right, England was unlike anything she had ever seen and different from anything she had imagined. But it was <em>not</em> a good different.</p><p>The scenery blurred by in an array of dark, lifeless colors and tones. The sky darkened by clouds and rain poured down at such an intense rate she feared the carriage roof would not hold.</p><p>She wasn’t exactly sure what she had expected, but some color at least would have helped. It was so awful and grey! Very different from the hot sun and endless sea and desert she had known before.</p><p>Turning her face from the window she again straightened her skirt.</p><p>The wool fabric felt scratchy on her skin but she'd had several months to get used to the texture…that didn’t mean she liked it though.</p><p>She and Bruce had never actually gotten to have that conversation about ladies ' undergarments. She would have found the material immensely more comfortable if she had been wearing a barrier between her skin and the tight wool dress. But that was one lesson he had decided to leave for Lois.</p><p>Diana breathed a small sigh of relief as she once again straightened her sleeves.</p><p>
  <em>At least this is one less thing to worry about.</em>
</p><p>She was quite pleased with the way she looked. Confident that in that department at least she was adequately prepared.</p><p>Diana had chosen the black dress because it was the best fit, though it was still tight. Also, it was the only one of her three gowns that had any form of embellishment. A small lace collar. She had thought herself pretty as she had dressed that morning.</p><p>Her brown boots were so well polished you could have seen your reflection in them. She had badgered Bruce into giving up his polish kit and had worked on them through the night.</p><p>Because she had grown a solid inch over the past months the toes of the boots were visible underneath her skirt. But she was unaware of what a fashionable blunder this was.</p><p>Yes, at least her appearance was correct, or so she believed.</p><p>Now the only problem was meeting them.</p><p>What would they think of her? Would they change their minds about wanting her back? Where would she go if that happened, it wasn’t like she could go back to Dagra?</p><p>
  <em>Maybe I could stay with Bruce.</em>
</p><p>She thought of what it would be like to forget all about England and Dagra. To spend the rest of her life traveling the world on his ship.</p><p>She smiled and peered at him from the corner of her eye.</p><p>He seemed oblivious to her, looking out the window.</p><p>
  <em>No, he would never let me come…He likes being alone.</em>
</p><p>For the rest of the ride, she went over and over in her mind how to behave when she met her family, just like he had taught her.</p><p>By the time the carriage rolled to a stop her stomach was a knot of raw nerves that made her feel sick.</p><p>Bruce opened the carriage door and stepped out into the rain.</p><p>After a brief struggle, he managed to open an umbrella and create a barrier from the downpour.</p><p>“You can get out now.” He said, looking back inside the carriage.</p><p>She didn’t move.</p><p>Didn’t even acknowledge his voice.</p><p>She had turned white as a sheet and her eyes had grown twice in size as she stared straight ahead.</p><p>Her heart was pounding so hard she felt it would beat out of her chest.</p><p>Her hands and feet had gone numb and her lungs struggled to fill with air.</p><p>
  <em>I can’t do this…I just can’t do this…</em>
</p><p>She felt a strong warm hand holding her cold one and giving it a gentle squeeze.</p><p>She looked down and saw his black glove encircled around her pale fingers.</p><p>Diana dragged her gaze to his face and found him staring back sympathetically, a reassuring little smile on his lips.</p><p>“After you.”</p><p>They exited the carriage and under the cover of the umbrella made their way to the door. Bruce beat the knocker against the wood until a maid opened it.</p><p>She did not wait for him to make introductions but motioned them inside out of the storm.</p><p>The maid said something but Diana didn’t hear her.</p><p>Bruce took her by the arm and led her past the servant and down the hall.</p><p>Clark stood by his wife, an outward picture of domestic bliss as they watched the double parlor doors.</p><p>They opened and he smiled as he saw his best friend enter. On his arm was a girl of incomparable beauty.</p><p>Not for one moment could he have mistaken who she was. He would have known her anywhere, and tears sprang to his eyes as he looked at her.</p><p>She was every inch a Lennox.</p><p>Raven hair, like their grandmother, incredible azure eyes, like her mother, and her impressive height, which came from her unusually tall Princeton father.</p><p>He watched her face for her reaction.</p><p>Her eyes were wide with uncertainty as she took in the room.</p><p>But he saw it change as she looked at himself and Lois.</p><p>Immediately a cool calm came over her and she raised her chin into the air. She seemed to grow taller as a natural regality took hold of her. He could practically see her building a wall around herself.</p><p>Something had displeased her but he had no idea what.</p><p>
  <em>No, no, no, it was wrong!</em>
</p><p>The one thing! The one thing she thought she didn’t need to worry about and it was simply terrible!</p><p>The instant she saw her cousin’s wife she knew that her clothes were hideous and completely wrong.</p><p>
  <em>I bet Laurel has never even seen an English woman!</em>
</p><p>Lois's dress was in the latest fashion, despite the fact that she was in mourning.</p><p>Her black taffeta had long bell-shaped sleeves with white muslin undersleeves edged in fine lace. Her collar was high like Diana’s but boasted a V shape at the neck instead of round. It was also accompanied by a lace collar dyed black.</p><p>The multi-tiered skirt, trimmed with black crepe, flared becomingly away from her body. Making her waist seem all the more minuscule. The bodice was a stiff upside-down triangle shape that made the wearer’s posture near perfect.</p><p>Lois also wore earrings, a bracelet, and a broach made from hard jet. Typical mourning jewelry.</p><p>Finally, Diana glanced at her hair. Unlike her own, which was in a long braid past her waist, Lois wore hers up. Parted in the middle with the sides swooped down over her ears and braided into a low bun at the nape of her neck.</p><p>The crowning glory of her simple, yet fashionable, hairstyle was a white lace day cap that sat neatly on her head. Two ribbons tied in bows on either side of the front with their tales falling down over her ears, and big surprise they were also black. The whole hat was far too frilly for Diana’s taste and she didn’t think it suited the smaller woman at all.</p><p>Still, she had to admit Lois was an attractive person, especially with those violet eyes. It wasn’t surprising that her cousin had married her.</p><p>Diana had come from a world where a woman’s beauty was a highly prized thing and entire marriages were based around it.</p><p>
  <em>This isn’t how this was supposed to begin. I must look so foolish to them. </em>
</p><p>Her embarrassment over her appearance grew and her pride swelled to the surface.</p><p>She was a Princess, she would not let them see her shame.</p><p>All previous decisions on how to be polite and correct flew out of her head.</p><p>In her mind, this meeting was already ruined.</p><p>“Clark, Lois, may I present Lady Diana Princeton. Diana, this is your cousin, Clark Kent, Earl of Lonworth,” said Bruce.</p><p>Clark smiled warmly and held out his arms to embrace her, but stopped at seeing her frosty gaze. She nodded slightly in his direction.</p><p>The rude sting of the gesture didn’t seem to have any effect on him, his smile was still firmly in place, but he did return his arms to his sides.</p><p>Lois bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She admired the girl's pride and spirit.</p><p>“Please have a seat.”</p><p>Clark motioned to a pair of chairs.</p><p>Bruce took Diana by the elbow and steered her towards the chair.</p><p>He took the one next to hers while Clark and Lois sat on the settee across the rug.</p><p>The four sat in uncomfortable silence for what felt like hours.</p><p>The longer they sat the more Diana’s superior façade eroded and her nervous behavior began to resurface.</p><p>Bruce glanced at her hands and watched them twitch and rub together.</p><p>“I wish to see the sisters of Hippolyta,” Diana commanded, breaking the silence.</p><p>Bruce wondered if anyone else noticed the thickening of her accent.</p><p>“Oh, um, well…ma-uh that is Martha, is still in the country…mourning my father……but we’ll all see her in a couple of days. When we take you to Riverfoot…. Aunt Mary will be here tomorrow for dinner. Along with Uncle Benjamin and Dinah and Oliver…Uh did Bruce tell you about our cousin Dinah?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Oh…good.”</p><p>Silence resumed.</p><p>“So Diana, did you have a pleasant voyage?” asked Lois.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Again silence…</p><p>The sound of the clock chiming five made them jump in their seats and glare at the mantel in alarm.</p><p>All except Mr. Wayne, who calmly pulled out his own pocket watch to verify the time.</p><p>Nodding in agreement with the clock’s assessment he returned the watch to his pocket and rose from his chair.</p><p>Bowing in his hosts’ direction he took his leave.</p><p>“I'm sorry to cut our visit short but I am afraid that I have business that cannot wait.”</p><p>The other three leaped to their feet in equal dismay at the prospect of being left together without a common thread.</p><p>Clark edged towards the door, trying to cut off his friend's escape, and Lois practically grabbed his arm to keep him from leaving. Meanwhile, Diana stood stiff as a statue, her eyes wide, filled with terror.</p><p>“Oh, surely not cousin!”</p><p>A small cough from Clark reminded Lois of her undignified demeanor.</p><p>“I mean, of course, we expected you to stay for dinner.”</p><p>Bruce’s face remained emotionless and reserved.</p><p>“Thank you, but no. I must take my leave.”</p><p>He bowed again to Lois.</p><p>“Cousin.”</p><p>Then turning to his friend he nodded.</p><p>“Clark.”</p><p>For Diana he bowed with the utmost respect and dignity, even managing a small reassuring smile as he straightened.</p><p>“Lady Diana.”</p><p>They remained frozen as he left the room.</p><p>Diana could hear the sound of his boots fading away as he left the way they came.</p><p>Bolting from the room she dashed after him.</p><p>“BRUCE! WAIT!”</p><p>He was already at the front door, accepting his coat and hat from the maid.</p><p>Increasing her speed she flew for him, terrified that he would walk out the door and be gone forever.</p><p>“WAIT!”</p><p>He stopped and turned.</p><p>Skidding to a stop she began to lose her balance as she tried to keep from knocking him over.</p><p>He reached out a strong arm to steady her.</p><p>She grabbed it and found herself gripping onto it for dear life.</p><p>Looking up into his clear blue eyes she felt her throat begin to constrict with the emotions.</p><p>“<em>Please…</em>” she whispered. “<em>Bruce you can’t leave me here, you can’t leave me with them.</em>”</p><p>Slowly he pried her fingers from his arm and moved her back away from him.</p><p>She was losing control of herself and didn’t feel her pride could withstand the humiliation of the flood of tears that threatened to overtake her.</p><p>“<em>What am I supposed to do? Please, you have to tell me!</em>”</p><p>Letting go of her hand he placed his hat on his head and opened the door.</p><p>No longer caring about appearances she cried out in a hoarse voice.</p><p>“I’ll never forgive you if you leave me here!”</p><p>He paused halfway out the door, his hand still poised on the nob.</p><p>Rounding he looked back at her.</p><p>He closed the space between them, towering above her.</p><p>She angled her head to look up to him.</p><p>He placed a large gloved hand on the back of her head, drawing it nearer to him.</p><p>Then, with profound tenderness, he pressed a small kiss to her forehead.</p><p>“<em>Goodnight Lady Diana.</em>” He whispered.</p><p>He drew back and exited, closing the door behind him.</p><p>Tears burned in her eyes.</p><p>The sound of swishing fabric let her know she was not alone.</p><p>She tried to school her features into as dignified a setting as she could manage.</p><p>Rotating cautiously she turned from the door.</p><p>“I wish to go to my room now.” She said in a small voice.</p><p>“Oh but it's only five, we still haven’t had dinner and—”</p><p>“<em>Uhum</em>…Lois dear, Cousin Diana has had a long and trying day.”</p><p>Lois's face flushed and a spark of anger shone in her eyes at being talked over.</p><p>“Of course. Beth will show you to your room.”</p><p>With a snap of her fingers, Lois summoned the maid and a middle-aged woman of considerable girth appeared at her side.</p><p>“This way milady.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Diana finally remembering to curtsy to her hosts before following Beth up the stairs.</p><p>Clark and Lois watched her disappear down the hallway before letting out a collective sigh.</p><p>“Well, that could have gone better,” Lois stated.</p><p>“Indeed.”</p><p>“I don’t understand it. I mean I know it is all very new to her and all but did you see the look on her face? It was like she wanted us to be swallowed up by the earth!”</p><p>“Something definitely upset her.”</p><p>“Well her clothes certainly didn’t help. I imagine the poor creature was rather self-conscious about her appearance.”</p><p>“Why do you say that?”</p><p>“Didn’t you notice how she kept trying to pull her sleeves down? Or the way she fidgeted with her collar? Not that it did much good. That gown is far too short and entirely unsuitable. I will have to contact Madame Charlotte first thing in the morning to get her some decent clothes. I dare say it should help her feel a bit more comfortable.”</p><p>“I hadn’t thought about it, but I do think your right.”</p><p>“<em>Hmm,</em>” Lois grunted. As far as she was concerned that was an absolute truth.</p><p>“But I still don’t understand why she seemed so frightened of us. After all, I thought she wanted to come to England.”</p><p>“Well, I am sure Bruce has the answer…..he always seems to.”</p><p>Lois had never been her dour cousin’s biggest fan.</p><p>“Yes, but he wasn’t much help tonight. I’ll have to talk to him about it tomorrow. Shall I invite him to dinner?”</p><p>“If you must.”</p><p>Clark smiled at his wife’s begrudging hospitality.</p><p>“Always the eager hostess.”</p><p>“Only if the company is agreeable.”</p><p>“Well don’t worry about it. Dinah will be here and that should take some pressure off.”</p><p>“Thank heaven for that at least.”</p><p>Dinah always had the ability to get people to talk and be at ease with one another.</p><p>“But where I would like to know was Bruce skulking off to <em>hmm</em>? You know he hates that grand coffin he calls a house, and the idea of social calls is ludicrous.”</p><p>“Maybe it was a matter of commerce.”</p><p>“<em>Huh!</em> Fat chance. The only business sense my dear cousin has is how to spend the fortune others earn for him.”</p><p>Clark stiffened at his wife’s callous words. He never understood why the two of them could not hold each other with the same high regard that he held for them both.</p><p>“Well, either way, it is his matter, not ours.”</p><p>“Diplomatic to the end.”</p><p>Lois muttered as she went to tell the cook to remove Bruce Wayne’s plate from the table.</p><p>Clark wondered though, <em>Where had Bruce gone?</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 6: Secrets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok I know Diana's life seems depressing at the moment but I PROMISE things will get better!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 6: Secrets</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>London, September 1843: 9:00 o’clock that Evening.</em>
</p><p>He walked down the dark street, pulling his collar up against the drizzling rain.</p><p>His clothing didn’t mark him as anything remarkable. It would have been easy for a passerby to distinguish him as a sailor and if they were knowledgeable a captain, but nothing more.</p><p>That suited him.</p><p>Drawing attention to himself, especially at this time of night, would not be advisable.</p><p>A notion lost on the well-dressed gentleman on the opposite side of the street.</p><p>A portly man with a thick mustache. He was wearing a fine waistcoat and top hat.</p><p>That alone marked him as a man of means, but the real tell was that he would stop every block or so to check that his gold watch was keeping time.</p><p>A more sensible person would be more careful where he flaunted his wealth. This poor fool seemed oblivious to the area he was in.</p><p>
  <em>Most likely new money. </em>
</p><p>Bruce trudged along at a slow pace.</p><p>Even more proof of the man’s lack of awareness. He had failed to notice that he was being followed and that he had been for the past hour and a half.</p><p>Bruce had been following him up and down various streets at a discreet distance since he noticed him. Attempting to save the misguided buffoon from his own folly.</p><p>The gentleman may have missed his presence, but Bruce knew any would-be muggers would not. So, he had offered invaluable protection for the arrogant sod. Determined to see him safely home.</p><p>Even the wife of a fool deserves a living husband.</p><p>The gentleman climbed the steps of a rather gaudy townhouse in a newer section of the city.</p><p>Bruce watched from the street as the door opened and light flooded the sidewalk.</p><p>A short woman with a double chin and mousy features opened the door and smiled at the man. He kissed her on both cheeks before pulling a parcel from his coat pocket and depositing it in her chubby hands.</p><p>With a squeal, she threw her arms around his neck and assaulted his face with kisses.</p><p>The man laughed and freed himself from her choking embrace. She ushered him inside with all the fuss and care of a mother hen. As the door closed Bruce could hear her chastising voice.</p><p>“Really Peter Dear! Don't wear your boots in the house! Your slippers are by the fire.”</p><p>Her words echoed down the street which was once again returned to darkness.</p><p>He stood there for a moment. Watching the closed door. Almost hoping it would open and a kind motherly voice would beckon him in, scolding him for wearing boots on her carpet.</p><p>He moved on.</p><p>The detour had put him off course and Bruce Wayne was a man who didn’t waste time.</p><p>Quickening his pace he wove his way through the streets with the ease of a native.</p><p>As he walked his thoughts turned to Diana.</p><p>He felt guilty over leaving the way he did but believed it was for her own good.</p><p>She would never give them a chance as long as she had him to hide behind. That became clear the moment she met Lois and Clark.</p><p>
  <em>What a disaster. </em>
</p><p>No, what they all needed was some alone time. That was the only way they would start getting to know one another.</p><p>The image of the tearful 15-year-old begging him to stay came to mind but he banished it.</p><p>He had come to care for Diana over the past 3 months. View her as a little sister, someone he wanted to protect and shelter.</p><p>He had never had any siblings of his own. During their time together he had transferred all the loyalty and protectiveness he would've given a brother or sister to her.</p><p>But now that delightful fantasy was at an end. She was in England now with her family, and although his feelings of brotherly affection remained as fierce as ever, he did not wish for them to hinder her connection with her <em>real </em>relations.</p><p>
  <em>But I will make sure you are safe Diana.</em>
</p><p>It was this mental promise that drove him through the rain to a rather modest dwelling of red brick.</p><p>He knocked and the door, pulling his hat down still further against the increasing rain.</p><p>It opened.</p><p>A man with wasps of grey hairs springing from his head stood in the doorway.</p><p>Seeing his visitor the man jumped and motioned him inside out of the rain.</p><p>Closing the door the man lit a candle and beckoned his guest towards the study.</p><p>Once inside the man lit various lamps and candles.</p><p>Indicating a chair for Bruce he took a seat behind an impressive oak desk.</p><p>Now seated the man smiled, his white teeth gleaming against dark skin.</p><p>He addressed his visitor as an equal in intelligence and status.</p><p>“It’s good to see you, Bruce. And what brings the Duke of Gotham to my door?”</p><p>“It’s good to see you too Lucius. I'm afraid I have come with a request.”</p><p>“Don’t you always.”</p><p>The older man chuckled.</p><p>“But after what you’ve done for me how could I refuse? What do you need this time?”</p><p>Reaching into his pocket Bruce pulled out a folded slip of paper and slid it across the desk.</p><p>Lucius accepted it and put on his reading spectacles as he opened the paper.</p><p>Upon reading it he bolted upright in his chair and pulled the lamp to his face to be sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.</p><p>“You can’t be serious!”</p><p>“I'm always serious.”</p><p>“Yes but, what on earth is it for?”</p><p>“Nothing that concerns anyone else.”</p><p>“It does if you expect me to agree to this! Now explain.”</p><p>Bruce straightened in his chair. He may not have had a spoiled upbringing but he was still a Duke and was accustomed to receiving what he asked for.</p><p>“If memory serves Mr. Fox I am allowed control over 10% of my inheritance until my 30<sup>th</sup> birthday.”</p><p>“Yes but…”</p><p>“And according to your last report, the amount written on that paper is far from the full 10%.”</p><p>“Well it certainly won’t bankrupt you by any means, but my job…”</p><p>“Your job is to advise and control the remaining 90%.”</p><p>“But how am I supposed to advise if you don’t tell me what’s going on!?!”</p><p>“Have I ever given you a reason to doubt my judgment?”</p><p>Lucius let out a deep sigh and slouched in his chair.</p><p>“Be at the bank tomorrow at six.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>-Diana,</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She sat in the window seat, knees pulled to her chest, watching the rainfall gather on the pane and run down in streaks.</p><p>Her black dress lay crumpled in a heap on the floor. She had ripped it off the moment Beth left. Though she had been careful not to pull out any buttons this time.</p><p>Hideous though it was, it was the best she had.</p><p>Resting her head on her knees she glanced around the room…her room.</p><p>Trying to distract her brain from replaying the evening’s events over again; as it seemed so willing to do.</p><p>Standing, she stood on the edge of the rug, crinkling her toes into the warm fibers.</p><p>It was pink, white, and gold. A design that was trying to imitate the elaborate majesty of the carpet designs of the Persians.</p><p>Hunching down she ran her hand across the flowery pattern. Feeling a small amount of smug superiority.</p><p>She doubted an ignorant Englishman would know the difference, but the inferior quality of the rug was obvious to her.</p><p>Straightening she took in the rest of the room.</p><p>It should have been a freeing size after the confined space of the ship. But her room in that wooden hull had come to feel secure and safe. Making this room feel too large and empty. She could rattle around like a pebble in a bucket.</p><p>Odd, this room could fit in a corner of her chambers back in the palace, but it hadn't felt too large.</p><p>The bed was of dark wood with a canopy of pink damask that matched the bedding. Across the room was an armoire, also of dark glossy wood. There were a full-length mirror and an ornate dressing screen with gold gilt and pink upholstery.</p><p>The walls were white, a somewhat boring color, with elegant molding around the ceiling. A variety of charcoal drawings of nature scenes and animals hung on the walls.</p><p>The fireplace was across from the bed.</p><p>There were two large windows looking out over the street. They had thick drapes of pink and white, and one had a window seat that overflowed with pillows.</p><p>Moving her eyes back to the foot of the bed she found at its base her trunk.</p><p>Kneeling down she undid the latch and pushed back the lid.</p><p>Digging through her other dresses and layers of underclothes, that she had never worn, she searched for her nightgown.</p><p>Finding the sleeve she pulled put the fabric wouldn’t move.</p><p>She tried again but only heard the sound of seams beginning to pull.</p><p>Letting go she began to yank articles out of the trunk. Throwing them across the floor. Marring the pink perfection.</p><p>Her nails scratched against something as she removed a petticoat from the box.</p><p>It was the jewelry chest.</p><p>She ceased the destruction.</p><p>Putting both hands into the trunk she lifted out the chest and placed it in her lap.</p><p>The firelight reflected off the jewels, making them winked at her.</p><p>Reverently, she caressed the case. Outlining the flowers and gold trimmings with her fingers.</p><p>This was her last link to her mother, <em>to home</em>.</p><p>Closing her eyes she saw her homeland. Vast sweeping deserts, waving palm trees, the endless blue of the sea. The laughter of her sisters as they played in the garden. The calming sound of her mother’s voice drifting through the marble halls. Sweet scents of Jasmine and frankincense that clung to linen curtains as they billowed in the breeze.</p><p>Tears leaked beneath her closed lids as her heart ached to be there.</p><p>To go home.</p><p>She was from another world.</p><p>One of beauty and grace.</p><p>A place that those who she must now call her family would never see, but only hear of through story and song.</p><p>She might as well have been something from myth or a legend.</p><p>“I may have to live here……but I will <em>never</em> forget those who raised me.”</p><p>Lifting the chest she placed it back inside the trunk and began to bury it beneath layers of clothing.</p><p>She wanted to hide it from the world. To hold on to this last piece of her past as selfishly as she could.</p><p>Let them make her over in their image. She would learn their ways, adopt their customs and dress, and even speak their hateful language. But this…..this was hers……and she would never share it with anyone.</p><p>A small piece of her hoped that one day she would come to care for these people. Hoped that they would care for her……….but a part of her would never belong here.</p><p>“I am Lady Diana Princeton, but I am also Princess Amira of Dagra. <em>And I will never forget that</em>.”</p><p>Hiding her treasures she put on her nightdress and crawled into bed. Burrowing beneath the covers, wishing she was anywhere but there.</p><p>
  <em>I wish Bruce was here.</em>
</p><p>She fell into a dreamless sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 7: Family Reunion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 7: Family Reunion</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Kent Townhouse September 23, 1843</em>
</p><p>“My Lady……My Lady? It’s time to get up.”</p><p>Diana rolled over in an attempt to remain in the pleasant void of sleep.</p><p>“Lady Diana, GET UP!”</p><p>Diana jumped and turned to see herself staring into the unamused eyes and crossed arms of Beth.</p><p>“Good, now we need to get you dressed. Your cousin has made plans for the two of you and you have already slept through breakfast.”</p><p>“My cousin?”</p><p>“The Countess. Now let’s see what we’re working with.”</p><p>Beth began to open the trunk.</p><p>“STOP!”</p><p>The maid straightened and raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Those are <em>my </em>things.”</p><p>Diana slammed the lid back down.</p><p>Beth studied her.</p><p>A little smile appeared on the maid’s face as she took a step back from the box.</p><p>Diana may have thought the servant impertinent, but Beth was no fool.</p><p>She knew that left to their own devices the girl’s family would pity and coddle her until she suffocated. Treating her like a china doll instead of a living breathing girl. What she needed was an adult to show her that she needn't be the one in control. That job was already taken care of.</p><p>“Yes, and my job is to make sure you put them on.”</p><p>Moving Diana’s hand from the lid Beth again opened the trunk.</p><p>“Sweet heavenly days what a mess! No wonder you didn’t want me to see this. Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to fold your clothes?”</p><p>Diana’s chin rose into the air.</p><p>“I had servants for that.”</p><p>“<em>Huh,</em> well you don’t here. My job is to get you dressed not to encourage the sin of sloth.”</p><p>“The sin of what?”</p><p>“Being messy.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Now you pull everything out of that trunk right now and I’ll show you how to fold it correctly.”</p><p>Diana didn’t feel quite so superior anymore as she meekly did as she was told.</p><p>Beth didn’t so much as glance at the jewelry chest and Diana breathed a sigh of relief.</p><p>“Now, let us see what we have to work with….<em>hmm</em>, they didn’t send you with much did they?”</p><p>“These are English clothes. I did not wear <em>these</em> at home.”</p><p>“Well you are in England now so English clothes are what you’ll be wearing.”</p><p>Beth set to work teaching Diana how to fold and having her repack her trunk. During the process, they both decided that the Black dress would be best, even though she had worn it the day before. Then came the true battle, getting dressed.</p><p>“You can’t be serious!”</p><p>“Do I look like a jester to you?”</p><p>“But I’ll die from the heat!”</p><p>“Don’t speak utter nonsense and use some good sense. Do you think every other lady is at risk of dying from being modest?”</p><p>“Perhaps, besides this isn’t modest, it is imprisonment!”</p><p>“That is enough. You will become accustomed the more you wear it, and I will not allow you to leave this room partially clothed.”</p><p>To make her point Beth widened her stance and placed her hands on her hips. Accentuating the hard muscles she had earned from a lifetime of hard work.</p><p>Diana contemplated making a break for the door. But she knew the fight already lost.</p><p>“Fine, what goes first?”</p><p>“The chemise.”</p><p>Then came stockings and boots, pantalets, corset, which didn’t go over well, and layer upon layer of petticoats.</p><p>The added fullness of the skirt made the black dress even shorter than it had been before. Beth said it would have to be endured.</p><p>“There!”</p><p>Beth finished brushing through Diana’s thick curls.</p><p>The maid had pulled her raven locks back from the sides with a black ribbon. Tying it high on the back of her head so her hair cascaded down her back in a waterfall of curls.</p><p>“It’s lucky for us that the Black fit best. Seeing as how the family is in mourning. It looks good that you are being supportive.”</p><p>“What is mourning?”</p><p>“When a family member or friend dies then you go into mourning. You do not take part in society and all articles of clothing and Jewelry are black. When in half-mourning lilac and grey are also acceptable. Of course, white is also appropriate for full mourning but most don’t use it.”</p><p>“How long will I be in mourning?”</p><p>“Oh, your time is up. You see the previous Earl was your uncle, which means you were only to be in mourning for him for two months. But that time passed while you were on that ship.”</p><p>Diana nodded her head.</p><p>Beth attempted to correct the lace collar which was askew.</p><p>“And what of my cousins? How long must they mourn?”</p><p>“Master Clark and Lady Caroline will mourn for one year as well as Lady Lois, out of respect. Of course, Lady Caroline is still a little girl and is not expected to wear black at all times, just when relatives and close friends visit. But your Aunt will mourn for an additional year, so two.”</p><p>“That seems like an awfully long time.”</p><p>“It would be disrespectful to do any less.”</p><p>“Disrespectful to whom? He’s dead, he doesn’t know how long anyone wears black for.”</p><p>Beth gave her a look that suggested she had asked enough questions.</p><p>“If the family did not follow the rules of mourning then others would talk about how they didn’t love your uncle. They'd say they were shaming him after death.”</p><p>“But why does that matter?”</p><p>“Because it would ruin the family’s good name and reputation.”</p><p>“But why?”</p><p>“Good heavens child do you ever stop asking questions!”</p><p>“Sorry…….but why?”</p><p>“<em>Ugh</em>!!! Because that is the way things are and you would do best to follow the rules. Life is unkind to a girl with a bad reputation.”</p><p>Diana wondered what a bad reputation might entail but kept her thoughts to herself.</p><p>Luckily for Beth, there was a knock at the door followed by the entrance of Lois.</p><p>“Ah, Diana you’re awake.”</p><p>Lois smiled.</p><p>Diana managed to smile in return.</p><p>“Good, you’re dressed. Madame Charlotte is waiting in the yellow drawing-room.”</p><p>“Where is my cousin?”</p><p>Lois waved her hand as if her husband was of little consequence.</p><p>“He left for the office hours ago. But he’ll be back in time for dinner. He invited Bruce so we shall see if he arrives as well.”</p><p>Immediately Diana’s face filled with delight and her eyes became alert.</p><p>“Bruce is coming back?”</p><p>“Unfortunately yes. But we can talk about that later, come, I think you're going to like Madame.”</p><p>Lois took the younger woman’s hand and locked arms. Leading her out of the room and down the hallway with Beth close on their heels.</p><p>The yellow drawing-room was a good name. Apparently, Lois had an obsession with decorating each room in a single color.</p><p>Madame Charlotte was of average height with a plain face that sported a pair of round glasses.</p><p>When her eye caught sight of Diana her head jerked and her hazel eyes snapped. She took in every aspect of her appearance like a horse seller.</p><p>Lois greeted the woman who bobbed an impatient curtsy in response. Rattling something off that Diana had no hopes of understanding.</p><p>What was this woman speaking? Surely her English wasn’t that poor.</p><p>She strained to catch a few words as the little mouse continued to spew unintelligible syllables. All the while gesturing to Diana.</p><p>No good. She didn’t understand a word. If those even were words.</p><p>To her horror, Lois began to gurgle the same uncomprehending-able gibberish and Diana began to fear that something was wrong with her hearing.</p><p>She turned to Beth for answers. The maid mouthed the word, <em>French</em>.</p><p>Diana breathed a sigh of relief and nodded to the maid.</p><p>
  <em>Not English then.</em>
</p><p>“<em>Allons au travail</em>!”</p><p>Madame Charlotte clapped her hands and two assistants appeared at her side.</p><p>The mouse, as Diana had begun to think of her, gave quick commands and the two advanced towards Diana and began to rid her of her current clothing.</p><p>Meanwhile, Beth covered the windows with muslin to let the light in and keep unwanted eyes out.</p><p>The assistants managed to unbutton her dress before she realized what was happening.</p><p>Diana began to wrestle away the grabby hands as they attempted to unlace the rest of her clothing.</p><p>It had taken forever to put on this torture chamber of cloth and uncomfortable as it may have been she wasn’t about to go through the whole process again.</p><p>Lois, Beth, and Madame Charlotte attempted to intervene but it was too late. Diana was gripping a wrist in each hand and holding her captives immobile in her grasp.</p><p>The assistants looked back with wide eyes as she held them all but aloft in her clutches.</p><p>“Do <em>you </em>understand English?”</p><p>The now whimpering women nodded.</p><p>“Good! Because it took forever to put this thing on and I will not be taking it off!”</p><p>With that, she gave a little shove and released their wrists. The pair scurried behind the skirt of their mistress.</p><p>Lois let out a snort.</p><p>Beth was shooting righteous fire from her eyes but Diana took no notice of either.</p><p>Raising her chin she stared down her nose at the little women and their odd-looking commander.</p><p>Madame Charlotte turned to Lois and pleaded in a flurry of French for assistance.</p><p>Lois held up a hand to shield herself from the exasperated woman’s words.</p><p>“Diana…<em>(muffled laughter)</em>…Madame must have your measurements to make you a new wardrobe. Let Claudia and Maurine help you get undressed otherwise, your new clothes will not fit.”</p><p>Not convinced Diana turned to Lois.</p><p>Hands-on hips, the sleeves of her dress slipping off her shoulders and down her arms.</p><p>“Do you realize how long it took to get dressed?”</p><p>“It would have gone faster had you been more cooperative.”</p><p>“Thank you, Beth.”</p><p>Lois turned back to Diana. She liked nothing better than a challenging battle of wills and rarely did she lose.</p><p>Taking a step forward she smiled kindly.</p><p>Diana immediately became suspicious of the change in tactics.</p><p>“Diana, if you don't wish to have Claudia and Maurine’s help that is fine.”</p><p>Diana slid her hands from her hips and let them hang at her sides. Eyeing her cousin’s wife with suspicion. Beth was also giving Lois a rather choice expression.</p><p>Oozing confidence Lois spread her arms.</p><p>“But, if you do not allow Madame to do her work then you will not have any new clothes. And without proper clothing, you will have to stay in your room. Which includes dinner tonight.”</p><p>Diana’s hostilities evaporated and Lois knew that she had assessed her feelings correctly.</p><p>
  <em>She wouldn’t! Would she? But she can’t! Bruce is coming tonight I have to see him!......Fine. You win, this round.</em>
</p><p>She uncrossed her arms and held them out for the assistance to take the dress.</p><p>They did so cautiously.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>3 hours later</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“5 foot 7 inches!”</p><p>Lois strained to read the tiny numbers on the measuring tape.</p><p>“<em>Oui</em>.”</p><p>Madame Charlotte and Lois had planned an entire wardrobe for Diana. One that would carry her through the season and into spring. They had discussed fabrics, styles, patterns, and colors at length. They'd decided that the jewel tones would suit the dark-haired beauty best.</p><p>The last order of business was to measure her height, to be sure that the new gowns would be of a proper length. A welcome change from the unflattering dresses she currently possessed.</p><p>Upon seeing Diana's dresses Madame had demanded they be burned for they were painful to the eye.</p><p>Driven by new urgency the woman promised that by the end of the day Diana would be wearing one of her creations. So she would not have to spend another day dressed like a convent’s novice.</p><p>Diana tried to look at the numbers too but Beth wouldn’t let her because she would mess with the tape by moving.</p><p>“And you say she's only 15?” Madame asked.</p><p>“YOU CAN SPEAK ENGLISH!”</p><p>Beth gave Diana a none to subtle jab to the ribs.</p><p>Diana swatted at the maid.</p><p>“I’ll get to you in a minute!”</p><p>“Oh, you will <em>hmm</em>? It is rude to be so abrasive to a guest.”</p><p>“But she can speak English and has spent the whole time speaking a language I can’t understand! How is that not rude?”</p><p>“Because <em>she</em> is a guest, and a foreigner so it would be rude to expect her to speak English.” Beth clarified.</p><p>منافق.</p><p>“Enough!” Madame commanded. Causing a temporary cease-fire.</p><p>“Lady Diana, I'm sorry I have not spoken ze English with you, but I find it difficult.”</p><p>Diana felt guilty for accusing her. She was only trying to do her job.</p><p>“I am sorry Madame, my mother always said my tongue was my worst fault.”</p><p>“<em>Merci Mademoiselle</em>, your mother is a wise woman.”</p><p>Diana straightened with pride at that and smiled at the little seamstress.</p><p>Madame Charlotte and her assistants packed up their things, bidding their hostess farewell before climbing into a carriage and disappearing down the endless streets.</p><p>By some miracle, Beth managed to again dress Diana and the two agreed on a truce.</p><p>The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly. Lois gave Diana a tour of the house and the two women enjoying a small luncheon in the garden.</p><p>The garden was unlike anything she had ever seen before. So she decided to continue her exploration of it while Lois went back inside.</p><p>It was small, smaller than her bedroom but its wild beauty erased any failings due to space.</p><p>There were flower beds flanking the center green. Between bare spots clusters of flowers still grew like wispy hairs on a balding man’s head. Some of the flowers she recognized but many she did not. She took special note of each one as she walked the short brick path.</p><p>She wondered why such hideous brown patches were among the displaced flowers. A chilled breeze blew against her skirt giving the answer. The delicate blooms did not like the cold and would soon disappear till spring.</p><p>
  <em>I wish I could disappear too. I’d sleep all winter long until things were beautiful again.</em>
</p><p>At the end of the path, there was a simple wooden bench nestled beneath an arch. One odd pink flower defied nature and still bloomed amongst the greenery of the arch. Curious Diana inspected the little blossom, feeling almost a kinship to the stubborn bloom.</p><p>Lowering herself slowly in her cumbersome dress she sat on the bench and looked over the garden.</p><p>Rosy gold rays of light reflected off the three stories of white brick onto the grassy square. It was like a secret world where the bustle and noise from the street could not reach you.</p><p>“It’s not so bad here.” She said to the flowers and hedges.</p><p>“It’s much prettier than I thought it would be. If only it wasn’t so completely different. Maybe that’s a good thing, there will be much less to remind me of home.”</p><p>A tear trickled down her lashes and dropped to her hand. Annoyed she brushed it away.</p><p>“Cry, cry, cry, that’s all you do. STOP IT AMIRA!.........<em>Diana</em>...... You mustn’t think of Dagra as home anymore. This is your home now……<em>this is my home</em>.........they seem nice. Lois is pleasant and amusing. Not anything like I thought she would be.”</p><p>Excepting Hippolyta, who held so much fascination for her, Diana had imagined all English women to be like Laurel. Quiet and meek, wearing drab colors and never speaking.</p><p>She hadn’t taken into consideration that Laurel’s behavior was born more from her being a servant, than being English. In fact, Laurel hadn’t been English at all, but once again this was beyond her knowledge.</p><p>Diana smiled as she thought of Lois.</p><p>She liked her. In many ways, she reminded her of Nadira, though more easily agitated. She was strong-willed and clever; funny and engaging. Diana had enjoyed their afternoon together.</p><p>“Yes, I'll be alright.”</p><p>She said this with more conviction than she had felt since arriving in England.</p><p>“And Bruce lives here! I have a friend already, everything will be fine.”</p><p>Standing she reentered the house. Humming an off-color tune the sailors had taught her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>5 o’clock that evening</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Coming home at the end of the day was to be a pleasant experience, one Clark wanted to looked forward to.</p><p>He considered a happy house the greatest achievement of a man.</p><p>He would imagine Lois and him idling away the twilight in conversation and comfortable laughter.</p><p>However, these fantasies were usually destroyed upon entering the door.</p><p>Instead of a cozy fire and smiling wife, he was usually met by weeping servants and the cold miserable eyes of his wife. Failing to conceal her contempt for him and everything around her.</p><p>But, he was an idealist; of the acutest degree. He was sure there was a compromise to life that would make them both happy.</p><p>Tonight though, he received an affectionate kiss from his wife, making the event a moment worth savoring.</p><p>Lois smiled! She smiled at him! And he fell in love with her all over again.</p><p>It had been so long since he had seen her even remotely happy that he'd forgotten what a true smile looked like. But there it was, and for now, at least, she was happy.</p><p>“You’re beautiful.”</p><p>“What did you say?” Lois asked.</p><p>Clark blushed, realizing he'd spoken aloud.</p><p>Lois’s smile widened.</p><p>Even his bashful behavior, which she normally found so irritating did not bother her. A true miracle indeed.</p><p>“You look beautiful tonight.”</p><p>“Why thank you, Mr. Kent.”</p><p>She pressed another kiss to his cheek and then went back to organizing dinner.</p><p>Grinning like a foolish schoolboy Clark strolled down the hall to his office.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Clark's</em>
  <em> Office</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Diana flipped through the stack of papers on the desk. She wasn’t looking for anything, only curious.</p><p>A banknote.</p><p>Some loose pieces of stationery.</p><p>An old newspaper.</p><p>A half-written article on the back of a letter.</p><p>A to-do list or three.</p><p>She reached what appeared to be a scribbled drawing of a man about halfway through the stack.</p><p>It was cartoonish and fun.</p><p>Pulling it from its burial place she held it up to the oil lamp for a better look.</p><p>It was a man. He sported a cheesy grin, impossibly large muscles, and wore a suit with a cape billowing behind him. There was a meticulously detailed S on both lapels of his suit as well as an almost hidden one on his cape. The crest was too intricate for the rest of the picture. Betraying a level of skill and an eye for detail that the general drawing lacked.</p><p>Absorbed in her findings the sound of the door opening made her jump. Clinging to the drawing in her hand.</p><p>“Fancy meeting you here.”</p><p>Clark smiled as Diana scurried to straighten the papers on his desk.</p><p>“I-I am sorry, Lois said I could look around.”</p><p>Clark walked forward.</p><p>“Of course you may, what have you found there?”</p><p>Sheepishly she held out the drawing.</p><p>He roared with laughter. The sound vibrating throughout the small room.</p><p>The pure amusement emanating from him made her relax and brought a smile to her face.</p><p>“Let me see that.”</p><p>Diana handed over the paper.</p><p>Clark erupted in another fit of earth-shaking laughter.</p><p>“What is so funny?”</p><p>“I had forgotten all about this! I suppose Lois was rummaging around in here and left it on my desk.”</p><p>“But what is it?”</p><p>Trying to contain himself Clark studied the drawing.</p><p>“Well, when Bruce and I were boys we fantasized about being knights and heroes. We each made up a hero and enacted story after story of their daring adventures, brothers in chivalry. Anyway, this drawing was one I made of my character. Bruce made one for himself. IT was much more advanced than mine. I'd admired it so that he drew the crest for me.”</p><p>Clark pointed to the S’s.</p><p>“To make it fair I added my own improvement’s to his drawing…. A pair of spiked ear like things on his mask to make him look more intimidating.”</p><p>Diana smiled at the image of a young Bruce drawing himself as a hero.</p><p>“What is his name?” She asked motioning to the drawing.</p><p>Clark flushed with embarrassment as his eyes grew in size behind his thick round glasses.</p><p>“I-um, I don’t remember.”</p><p>Diana didn’t believe him.</p><p>“I wanted to thank you, Diana.”</p><p>“Thank me? For what?”</p><p>Clark placed the drawing in a desk drawer.</p><p>Crossing the room to a multi-drawered cabinet.</p><p>“I want to thank you for what you’ve done for Lois.”</p><p>She looked confused.</p><p>“I have done nothing.”</p><p>“Oh, but you have!”</p><p>Clark removed a velvet pouch from the cabinet.</p><p>Turning back to Diana.</p><p>“My wife hasn’t been happy for some time. Not since……….<em>but there is still time</em>.............”</p><p>Snapping back to the present Clark beamed at her.</p><p>“Your company has lifted her spirits more than anything else, and for that I thank you.”</p><p>Not sure what to do Diana remained silent.</p><p>“This is for you.”</p><p>Clark held out the pouch.</p><p>She took it and undid the string, dumping the contents into her open palm.</p><p>Out fell a beautiful ruby that glittered a deep red.</p><p>It was almost the size of her thumb and centered on a chain of linked gold rings.</p><p>“It’s a Ferronnière.” said Clark “You wear it on your forehead, like a tiara, but lower.”</p><p>He paused enjoying the sight of her admiring the gem.</p><p>“Ma sent it to me, said she wanted you to have it as soon as you arrived.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Clark remembered that she would naturally be at a loss to the significance of the gift.</p><p>“It was your mother’s.”</p><p>Her eyes widened and she held the headband to her chest with reverence.</p><p>She had always wanted something, anything, to give the woman some tangibility. To prove that she had been real, and not just a story.</p><p>“<em>Thank you.</em>”</p><p>Clark enveloped her in a loving hug.</p><p>“You're here now and we couldn’t be happier. We love you, Diana.”</p><p>The door burst open and Lois wrenched her from Clark’s brotherly embrace.</p><p>“Diana hurry, the dress’s arrived!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>7:00 o’clock</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Dinah! Oliver! Come in, Come in!”</p><p>“Clark it is so good to see you! <em>Mama</em> and <em>Papa</em> should be here soon.”</p><p>“Won’t that liven things up?”</p><p>Oliver smirked and his wife sent him a scolding look. She couldn’t maintain it for long before bursting into a smile once more. Oliver gave her a cheeky wink and then led her into the drawing-room behind Clark.</p><p>“So don’t keep us in suspense Clark, what's she like?” Dinah asked.</p><p>“Yes, is she quite the proper little heathen?”</p><p>“Oliver! Please, behave yourself.”</p><p>“If everyone else is busy behaving themselves then at least one of us will have to show the girl a good time.”</p><p>Dinah rolled her eyes to the ceiling.</p><p>Clark laughed, it was good to see the two of them again.</p><p>Lois joined them and greeted her guests. After dispensing with the pleasantries they questioned her on the whereabouts of their mysterious cousin.</p><p>“She’ll be down in a minute.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Upstairs</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Diana continued to watch her reflection in the full-length mirror with awe.</p><p>During her childhood, she had heard others whisper about her looks. Though she had never taken it as more than mere flattery. Every woman in the harem was described as a great beauty, even if they were not. But standing before the mirror she began to think maybe it hadn't but only lip service.</p><p>The dress had arrived in a box decorated with painted roses and stuffed with crisp tissue paper. Her name on a label in sweeping calligraphy. <em>Lady Diana Princeton.</em></p><p>Lois and Beth had torn into it like eager toddlers and had gasped upon seeing Madame Charlotte’s creation.</p><p>When they lifted it from the box Diana felt the breath leave her lungs.</p><p>They had helped her dress and now she stood admiring the finished result.</p><p>It was an evening gown. Deep crimson red velvet that sloped off the shoulders, in what Beth called a most risqué manner, into a low neckline of several elegant pleats. The reverse triangular-shaped bodice made the torso look almost oddly small. The sleeves were slightly puffed and edged with thin red ribbon and white lace. The skirt was full and had a slight. Concealed beneath were her new slippers, also of crimson velvet, that now replaced her heinous brown boots.</p><p>She turned once more watching the liquid-like fabric swish across the floor.</p><p>The one downside was the bodice.</p><p>Even if she hadn’t been wearing the rib crushing corset it wouldn’t have been possible to be anything but completely upright in the starched bodice.</p><p>As a result, she appeared even taller than normal! The lowness of the neckline elongated her neck and the deep red set off her complexion.</p><p>She brushed her fingers through the skirt and glorified in the softness of the fabric. It was so different from the coarse wool she had worn on the ship, more like the silks that had adorned her in childhood.</p><p>An impish smile spread across her face as she looked in the mirror.</p><p>Spinning like a top, the skirt spooled about her in a blaze of red and she felt the heaviness of the multiple petticoats lift as she spun faster and faster.</p><p>Laughing and out of breath she came to a stop and looked back at her reflection.</p><p>Her smile faded.</p><p>Unable to ignore the memory of the last time she had twirled before a mirror in a new dress.</p><p>The door opened and Beth entered.</p><p>“Such nonsense child. Come take a seat and I’ll fix your hair.”</p><p>Diana obeyed and sat on the stool before the vanity.</p><p>Beth began running the brush through her curls with speed and practice.</p><p>“What shall we do with these locks?”</p><p>“Beth,”</p><p>“Yes, my lady?”</p><p>“I do not like the way Lois does her hair……is that the way <em>all</em> English women must wear it?”</p><p>Beth stopped brushing and met the girl’s eyes in the mirror.</p><p>“It is the fashion……..but I have always felt that fashion is more of a guideline.”</p><p>Suddenly excited the maid began pulling the brush through the strands again.</p><p>“You know little miss, my mum used to work as a maid to an actress! Back when the Prince Regent was becoming all high and mighty, <em>what a slosh of a man</em>. She taught me a thing or two, I may remember some of it.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Downstairs</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Beth had arranged her hair in a Grecian style that harkened back to an earlier age. A spiraling curl whispered down her neck and draped over her collarbone. On her forehead glittered her mother’s ferronnière. Framed by her up-swept hair, setting off the blood-red ruby.</p><p>She entered the parlor feeling much more at ease about this meeting than when she met Clark and Lois. Though still apprehensive about what her cousin and aunt would think of her.</p><p>The pleasant chatter ceased.</p><p>Diana curtsied.</p><p>Dinah rushed across the room to greet her.</p><p>Taking the younger girl in her arms Dinah enveloped her in a loving hug and kissed her on the cheek.</p><p>“I can’t believe you're here. We've waited so long.”</p><p>Again Dinah hugged her.</p><p>Instinctively Diana returned the embrace. Trying to comfort this complete stranger who held her as if she was afraid to let go.</p><p>“It’s alright, I am here now.”</p><p>The room remained silent.</p><p>Dinah continuing to struggle to accept that the girl before her was real and alive.</p><p>Finally, Oliver crossed the room and placed a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder.</p><p>Dinah recovered herself.</p><p>Smiling she took Diana by the arm and led her to sit between herself and Lois on the Settee. Oliver and Clark took the two chairs across the rug.</p><p>Dinah started chatting as if the pair were old friends. Giving explanations when Diana looked confused by pretending to explain the topic in question to Oliver. He didn't seem to mind. Shrugging good-naturedly as if he had no knowledge of these simple topics.</p><p>As the conversation progressed Diana found herself slowly eclipsed. Giving her an opportunity to get a good look at her cousin.</p><p>Dinah was a pretty woman, of average height with a heart-shaped face and blonde hair. She wore it in the same style as Lois. Though Diana felt it suited her delicate features and small forehead better. Her grey eyes marked her as a Lilly. Making her the only one of the cousins to have inherited them from their formidable grandmother.</p><p>Something Diana found odd was that even though her hair was a honey gold blonde her eyebrows were dark black.</p><p>It should have looked mismatched, but it made her grey eyes pop instead of blending with her lighter hair.</p><p>She strained to see if the roots of Dinah’s hair were also black. Thinking she might have dyed it to gain a more desirable color. But she found no such evidence. Dinah was just an anomaly.</p><p>Oliver, on the other hand, was the physical opposite of his small and delicate looking wife.</p><p>He was tall, shorter than Clark or Bruce but still tall. His eyes were brown and his skin tanned from excessive time in the sun. He was muscular and lounged in his chair with a nonchalant air.</p><p>He smiled easily and sported a fashionable mustache and chin puff.</p><p>Like Dinah, he also had blond hair, but it was a dirtier shade than his wife’s.</p><p>Diana studied Oliver carefully, flicking her gaze to Lois and then back again.</p><p>Bruce said the pair were cousins, both to each other and himself. She could see some resemblance with Lois, they both had dark hair and aristocratic Roman noses. But Oliver? No, as far as she could tell there were no similarities shared between the three of them. Well, possibly the height. For Bruce and Oliver that is, Lois was definitely left out of that equation.</p><p>A loud knock at the door interrupted the conversation.</p><p>The shrill sound of a woman’s voice clawed its way into the room. Oliver, Lois, and Clark shared knowing looks and Dinah’s face looked both amused and pained.</p><p>“Ah, that would be <em>Mama</em>.”</p><p>
  <em>Mama? </em>
</p><p>The double doors burst open with the forbearing of an east wind.</p><p>A tall woman who was thin as a pole and had an impossibly long face entered.</p><p>Her brown dress was wet and caked with mud along the hem. She held an umbrella in her left hand, even though there had been no sign of rain all day.</p><p>Her hair was frizzy and grey and sat on top of her head in a messy bun. Looking like it was going to slip down over her face as it quivered and bobbed with her every jerky movement.</p><p>Her eyes were hazel and squinty. Making her face look pinched and sour as if she needed to sneeze.</p><p>Behind her tumbled a man.</p><p>He was small in stature and downright fat in proportions.</p><p>His gingery hair hung down over his eyes in a fluffy mop. He tilted his head back to look about the room and his bushy eyebrows rolled back up his shallow forehead at the sight of Dinah. He gave a childish smile beneath his overgrown beard and raised a fat hand and waved at her.</p><p>Smiling, Dinah rose from her seat and crossed the floor to the odd-looking couple.</p><p>She curtsied respectfully to the woman, who nodded curtly before returning her gaze to the rest of the assembly.</p><p>After greeting the woman Dinah enveloped the man in a hug.</p><p>He patted her on the back and gave her a sweet smile.</p><p>“THERE YOU ARE!” The woman cried.</p><p>Diana jumped at the loud sound of the woman’s shriek.</p><p>“Come over here, child!”</p><p>She saw little choice but to obey.</p><p>“Diana, these are my parents. Lady Mary Chatsworth Lance and Captain Benjamin Lance.”</p><p>Diana had to fight down the urge to laugh at the idea of the absurd man being a military captain.</p><p>She curtsied.</p><p>“It is a pleasure to meet you Aunt Mary, Uncle Benjamin.”</p><p>Aunt Mary studied her with a critical eye.</p><p>She wondered how such a woman could have a daughter as sweet and attractive as Dinah? All the features that didn’t work in her own face had fallen into place in the visage of her daughter.</p><p>Uncle Benjamin took her slim hand in his chubby palm and patted it. He was aware of what an intimidating figure his wife was.</p><p>Diana smiled at him.</p><p>Mary grabbed her chin with her unforgiving claws and pulled Diana's face to her beady eyes for closer inspection.</p><p>Several seconds ticked by. Diana could feel Mary's fingers squeezing the bone of her jaw.</p><p>Releasing the fifteen-year-old she nodded her head in grave approval.</p><p>“You’re Polly’s girl alright. Only one other set of eyes like that ever existed. Now there's only yours.”</p><p>Diana didn’t know what to do.</p><p>“What’s the matter with you girl? Cat got your tongue?”</p><p>“Nothing's wrong with me, I just don’t have anything to say to you.”</p><p>As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew she had messed up. <em>How could she have been so rude!</em></p><p>But, to her surprise, Mary’s face broke into a horsey grin, and her nasally laugh vibrated throughout the room.</p><p>“You are most certainly my sister’s daughter.”</p><p>She continued to laugh as she took Diana by her arm and led her towards the dining room.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>8:30 Dining Room</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A pleasant conversation had been humming since dinner began. But, try as she might, Diana couldn’t stay focused on the discourse.</p><p>She glanced at the double doors, expecting them to open, <em>hoping</em> they would open, <em>praying</em> they would open.</p><p>
  <em>Where is he? </em>
</p><p>Lois had said he was coming, but he was so late, maybe he wasn’t coming after all.</p><p>“So, Diana, tell us about your life in Dagra?”</p><p>Diana snapped back to reality at Oliver’s question.</p><p>And began to squirm as all eyes turned towards her.</p><p>“What...What do you want to know?”</p><p>“Well, where did you live for starters? Did you live in a harem surrounded by nothing but eunuchs and women?”</p><p>Everyone else leaned in, waiting for her response.</p><p>Clearly, they found the idea of living without men incredibly interesting. Diana didn’t have the faintest idea why. To her, such a way of life was normal and held nothing interesting.</p><p>“I grew up at the Sultan’s palace….though Bruce explained to me that I am a <em>lady</em>, not a royal.”</p><p>She wanted to impress them with her understanding of this new status.</p><p>“Why of course you are royal.” Aunt Mary said as she battled with her roasted quail.</p><p>“Here we go.”</p><p>Mumbled Oliver as he reached for his wine glass and lounged back in his chair. Expecting a very long and boring sermon to begin.</p><p>Mary looked up from her plate and saw the confusion on Diana’s face.</p><p>“Did that idiot boy not tell you? I knew I should have written it down! Never trust a Wayne to do as he’s told.”</p><p>“I do not understand what you are talking about?”</p><p>Mary put down her fork and knife with a <em>clank</em> and began to recite the tale.</p><p>“We, my dear, <em>are</em> <em>royal</em>! Your grandmother Diana, may she rest in peace, was the daughter of a Greek princess.”</p><p>Mary paused for effect.</p><p>Diana leaned in.</p><p>“Now wait a minute.”</p><p>Interrupted Oliver, much to the annoyance of his mother-in-law.</p><p>“That is one part that always bothered me. How do you know for <em>certain</em>, that she was Greek?”</p><p>“And how else would you explain a name like Antiope? Now don’t interrupt your elders.”</p><p>Oliver nodded his head and muttered “Fair enough.” Before taking another long sip from his glass.</p><p>“Now, Antiope was Greek. From which island I don’t recall for she spoke of it very little and then only on her deathbed. So I am afraid not all the details are available.”</p><p>She shot an impatient look to Oliver who gave her a debonair smile and refilled his glass.</p><p>Diana looked around the table. Dinah and Clark were making eye contact with the tablecloth while Lois looked to the ceiling. As if to ask God why he was punishing her.</p><p>They had all heard this story before, many times. For them, it was nothing more than a fairy tale. But to Aunt Mary, it was as true as the gospels.</p><p>Only Uncle Benjamin seemed unaffected. Helping himself to another serving of potatoes in gravy.</p><p>“She was one of the many daughters of Princess Otrera and Prince Ares. Mother didn't know how many sisters Antiope had. But, in her delirium at death, she rattled off no fewer than twenty names! Calling them, <em>my dear sisters</em>.”</p><p>All thoughts of food forgotten Diana devoted her attention to this mysterious story. Even the others had begun to listen more intently to the familiar tale.</p><p>“I don’t know why but Antiope’s family was extremely suspicious of foreigners. Especially <em>male</em> foreigners. So, when Antiope fell in love with an impoverished English nobleman her parents were outraged! Otrera demanded that she give him up or leave their home forever. Antiope begged and pleaded with her mother not to make her choose but Otrera was relentless. In the end, she chose to go with him back to England and became the wife of Lord George Lilly. Mother was her only child and she never returned to her former home or spoke of them again. <em>Until</em> death came to claim her! In her tortured state she called for mother and told her the truth. That we are royalty……except for Oliver.”</p><p>Everyone laughed while Mary returned to her quail.</p><p>Oliver raised a glass.</p><p>“TO THE ROYALS!”</p><p>He toasted and all responded.</p><p>“TO THE ROYALS!”</p><p>Laughing at the fine joke, except Mary who continued to eat her meal in silence.</p><p>A man’s voice interrupted the gaiety.</p><p>Everyone snapped their heads towards the door.</p><p>“May I speak to Lady Diana?”</p><p>“BRUCE!”</p><p>Diana bolted from her chair and threw her arms around his neck.</p><p>The rest watched in astonishment as he returned the gesture. Before again addressing his hosts.</p><p>“I'm sorry I am late. May I speak to her….alone?”</p><p>“Of course. You can use the study.”</p><p>Bruce nodded his thanks and ushered Diana out of the room.</p><p>Once in the study, she could hold in her excitement no longer.</p><p>Twirling she showed off her new dress.</p><p>“Isn’t it lovely? Do I look quite English now?”</p><p>Bruce smiled and nodded his head.</p><p>“Quite English, and beautiful. To think this is the same girl who refused to wear a dress for three days.”</p><p>Diana smiled more brilliantly than before and bit her bottom lip with delight.</p><p>He had called her beautiful.</p><p>Her young heart was all a flutter, but more than that she was just grateful to see him again.</p><p>“I like them.”</p><p>His stance relaxed slightly.</p><p>“That is good to hear. They are good people Diana….I would never have left you with those I didn't trust.”</p><p>Again she smiled at him.</p><p>He was her only friend….it was true she liked her family but they did not know her yet.</p><p>“I was afraid when you left that you wouldn’t come back.”</p><p>Her accent thickened.</p><p>He towered above her like a mountain and his eyes looked down on her with sympathy and brotherly love.</p><p>“I will always come back…….but I do have to leave again.”</p><p>Her smile fell and she took a step away.</p><p>He expected her to rant and rave, throwing a tantrum like before.</p><p>Instead, she nodded her head, surprising him.</p><p>“How long will you be gone?”</p><p>“I don’t know, at least a few months.”</p><p>“A FEW MONTHS!……I will miss you.”</p><p>“And I’ll miss you. Clark knows how to get a message to me, I can’t always reply but……I would like to know how you are getting on.”</p><p>“I don’t wish my letters to be read.” She said stiffly.</p><p>Bruce had to remind himself that she had grown up in a world where privacy was almost non-existent.</p><p>“No one will read your letters except the person you intended to, you have my word.”</p><p>Looking like the Princess she was raised to be she commanded.</p><p>“You must come back as soon as possible.”</p><p>Bruce’s lips curled into an amused smile at her presumption to giving him orders.</p><p>“Don’t worry Princess, I have no desire to prolong this trip……..I do however have a request to make of you.”</p><p>“Me?”</p><p>He had never asked her for anything.</p><p>He nodded, again serious as he removed a letter from his coat pocket and held it out to her.</p><p>“I need you to give this to a friend of mine. Will you?”</p><p>She took the letter and felt the rough wax seal with her index finger.</p><p>“Of course…………..<em>please don’t go</em>.”</p><p>“I’ll come back Princess, I’ll always come back.”</p><p>She looked at the note in her hands, reading the name on the front.</p><p>
  <em>Alfred Pennyworth</em>
  <em>.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Four months ago</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“You understand what I am telling you?”</p><p>She received no response.</p><p>“Don’t forget what you owe me.”</p><p>“I will <em>never</em> forget.”</p><p>“Good, and remember, <em>no one </em>must ever find out that I have sent you or we are all doomed.”</p><p>Once again there was no response.</p><p>The Servant had gone, she was alone.</p><p>Nura hung her head and prayed to at last be free from her sins.</p><p>
  <em>Rest in peace now and haunt me no more……she will be safe</em>
  <em>.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 8: Delivering the Message</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 8: Delivering the Message</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Road, Kent County England, October 8, 1843</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The Carriage jolted and bumped over the rough country roads as they made their way to Riverfoot Hall.</p><p>Diana had remained glued to the window. Watching the passing countryside. It was so green! It was unlike anything she had ever seen or could have imagined. A welcome change from the bland grey of London.</p><p>Clark smiled at her and returned to reading his newspaper, uninclined to interrupt.</p><p>Lois had not accompanied them. A decision that had hurt Diana. Thinking that Lois’s desire to stay behind had something to do with her. Clark was quick to dispel these fears and gave her some insight into his wife’s decision.</p><p>“The Lanes are neighbors of Ma’s. Any visit to her would have demanded a visit to them, and that is something Lois likes to ration.”</p><p>“Why, does she not like her family?”</p><p>“It isn’t that she dislikes them. Her father is a good man, a hard man. He and Lois are more alike. He has always considered her his favorite child. But he isn’t terribly affectionate so he wouldn't be offended by his daughter’s absence.”</p><p>“Favorite child? Does Lois have siblings?”</p><p>“A sister, Lucy.”</p><p>“Do they not get along?”</p><p>“Their relationship is a bit more complicated. Of course, Lois loves her sister, but there is a nine-year gap between them. Lucy is only 12, and they are very different. I’ll wager you never met two sisters who were less alike.”</p><p>Diana thought of Shani, Nadira, Sultana, and Shayera and knew he would’ve lost that bet.</p><p>“Lucy is a sweet girl who could benefit from a closer relationship with her sister. I know that Lois wishes they were closer. But Lucy does grate on her nerves.”</p><p>“So it is Lois’s mother who is the broken chain.”</p><p>“I think you mean severed link, but yes.”</p><p>“Severed?”</p><p>“It means broken.”</p><p>“Then why can I not say broken?”</p><p>“Well, it isn’t how the saying goes.”</p><p>“But if they mean the same thing then why can they not be used the same?”</p><p>“It’s complicated.”</p><p>Diana let out a groan and slumped back against the upholstery.</p><p>“Everything English is complicated.”</p><p>Clark did his best to hide a bemused smirk.</p><p>“I suppose it is.”</p><p>They continued the rest of the ride in comfortable silence. Diana being again distracted by the passing scenery.</p><p>After several hours of riding through idyllic pastures and farmland, the gracious sight of Riverfoot Hall came into view.</p><p>It was an elegant and unassuming country house in the Georgian style. With a simple, unadorned façade of even cut grey and white stone that rose a mere three stories high. The windows were evenly spaced with white trim and the front door was beneath an overhang supported by four stone columns.</p><p>Several chimneys dotted its slate roof. Vines of Ivy and late blooming flowers climbed its walls.</p><p>The house set in a little clearing surrounded on all sides by forests and parkland. Various winding paths led the way to the village and tenant farms.</p><p>By a poor man’s standard, it was grand. For a rich man’s fancy, it was pleasant. To a girl who had spent her whole life in an endless oriental palace, it was cozy.</p><p>The carriage rolled more smoothly now over the pebbled driveway. As they neared Diana spied a small figure race out of the front door. Catching sight of a blonde head bobbing up and down and arms waving in the air.</p><p>“They're here! Ma! They’re here!”</p><p>The carriage came to a stop in front of the door.</p><p>Clark exited first.</p><p>As soon as his feet hit the ground the little girl flew at him. Laughing, Clark swung her in his arms and tossed her into the air.</p><p>Giggling the little girl wrapped her arms around his neck.</p><p>Setting her back on the ground Clark turned to the carriage and held out a hand to help Diana down.</p><p>She accepted and once on solid ground felt the crunch of gravel beneath her slippers.</p><p>Smiling, Clark put his hands on the little girl’s shoulders.</p><p>“Diana this is my little sister, Lady Caroline Kent.”</p><p>“Kara.”</p><p>The little girl corrected as she stuck out a hand for Diana to shake.</p><p>Diana accepted and the little girl proudly shook her hand as an equal.</p><p>“You’re tall,” Kara observed.</p><p>Diana smiled at her refreshing bluntness.</p><p>“So I have been told.”</p><p>“I am not tall, but I am only 9. Maybe when I am 10 I will be taller.”</p><p>Diana’s smile grew and she happily fed Kara’s dreams.</p><p>“Oh, I am sure you will be, after all, look at how tall your brother is.”</p><p>Kara studied Clark and nodded her head in approval.</p><p>“Yes, he is tall. But Ma says that is an accident.”</p><p>“Why would she say that?”</p><p>“Because Ma's not tall, neither was Pa, so Clark is just odd.”</p><p>Diana snorted. Struggling to contain her laughter.</p><p>Clark ruffled his sister’s hair with his large hand and she beat him back with small but powerful fists.</p><p>“Come now Kara, we mustn’t keep Ma waiting.”</p><p>Kara took Diana's hand and pulled her into the house. Keeping up a steady chatter all the way.</p><p>Bursting through the parlor doors at breakneck speed Kara slid to a stop. Throwing Diana to the floor in the process.</p><p>She was surprisingly strong for such a little girl.</p><p>“They’re here!” Kara announced.</p><p>Diana stood and tried to regain her composure.</p><p>The room was painted a cheery yellow with white trim. A polished pianoforte sat against a wall beneath a bank of family portraits, and the rest of the mahogany and yellow upholstered furniture was angled toward it. Two large windows across from the fireplace let light pour in.</p><p>Sitting in a straight-backed chair under the window sat a woman. Dressed all in black, she was busy working at an embroidery stand.</p><p>She raised her head and her face glowed with love and admiration.</p><p>Diana found herself longing for the woman to take her in her arms and smooth all her cares away with gentle words.</p><p>“Diana, may I introduce my mother and your aunt, Martha Kent.”</p><p>Clark smiled at his mother who held out her arms to him. He crossed the floor to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.</p><p>Kara ran over to her mother and pushed herself in front of her brother for a pat on the head and kiss of her own. Martha laughed at her daughter’s shenanigans and the room filled with the sweet melody of her voice.</p><p>Diana watched the picturesque family scene with longing ache.</p><p>Martha looked away from the joys of her heart and saw Diana. Standing on the other side of the room in her white traveling dress and bonnet.</p><p>Tears sprang into the older woman’s eyes as she stood and crossed the room.</p><p>Diana dropped into a deep curtsy.</p><p>“I am very happy to meet you, Aunt Martha.”</p><p>She didn’t even have a chance to straighten before the woman took her in her arms and hugged her fiercely.</p><p>Releasing her Martha gently took Diana’s face in her hands and studied her. Trying to memorize every detail.</p><p>Blinking through the tears that streamed down her cheeks she smiled.</p><p>“You look so much like your mother……..<em>Polly would be proud</em>.”</p><p>Again she embraced her. This time it was Diana who had to fight back tears.</p><p>Martha began to laugh as she let Diana go and wiped her tears away with her handkerchief.</p><p>“Oh, I'm sorry dear. I am so glad you are here.”</p><p>Diana smiled in return and took a moment to look her aunt over.</p><p>Kara was right, she was short.</p><p>She had a soft sweetness about her that her sister lacked. She was a middle-aged woman of 46 who had been quite pretty in her younger days. Now she had a quiet elegance and dignity that had replaced the vivacity of her youth.</p><p>Martha had light blue eyes and white hair that was once a rich honey blonde but had changed prematurely. Her figure was fuller than Mary’s stretched-out bony frame but she was by no means obese.</p><p>The sound of a masculine throat clearing made the group turn to the door.</p><p>A fat and important looking servant addressed Aunt Martha with plenty of drawn-out syllables and gravitas.</p><p>“Forgive me Madame but Mrs. Lane and a Miss Lucy Lane have arrived.”</p><p>“Oh!”</p><p>“Thank you Desmond, please see them in. Oh and Desmond. Please make sure that Lady Diana’s trunks are taken to her room and that Ellen knows to put the gilded mirror in there.”</p><p>The butler bowed, not an easy task given his sizable girth.</p><p>Leaving to deploy the servants.</p><p>Martha smoothed down her dress and brushed a few stray hairs back into place.</p><p>Diana moved back to stand with Clark and Kara.</p><p>“Is Lois’s mother and sister here?”</p><p>Clark nodded.</p><p>“The Lane’s rent a cottage not far from Riverfoot. They probably saw us drive by. Miss Charlotte isn’t one to waste an opportunity.”</p><p>“She’s a gossip and an insufferable bore.”</p><p>“Kara!”</p><p>Clark hurriedly covered his sister’s mouth with his hand.</p><p>Kara gave his hand a good lick.</p><p>Clark pulled it away in disgust.</p><p>Prompting Kara to stick her tongue out at him for trying to silence her.</p><p>Diana bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.</p><p>The doors opened.</p><p>In walked an overly dressed woman.</p><p>Following her was a slight girl who looked almost identical to Lois. Except for her eyes were blue instead of violet and instead of Lois’s strong Romanesque nose hers was small, turning up at the end.</p><p>The girl made eye contact with her shoes and stood behind her mother like a scared rabbit.</p><p>Diana could see why Lois and Lucy did not get on well. Lois could never have appreciated the company of anyone so spineless.</p><p>“Martha dear!” Mrs. Lane crooned as she embraced the more sophisticated woman.</p><p>With a sweet smile, the Dowager Countess greeted her guests.</p><p>“Ella, what an unexpected surprise. And you've brought Lucy! It's a pleasure to see you again dear.”</p><p>“Likewise Lady Kent,” Lucy murmured.</p><p>As if hearing her voice reminded her of the girl's presence Mrs. Lane turned to her daughter.</p><p>“Don’t slouch Lulu.”</p><p>The young girl flushed at her mother’s reprimand and tried to straighten her posture.</p><p>Kara wanted to give Mrs. Lane a good slap in the face. But, as much as she favored the direct approach, she wasn’t about to invoke the disappointment of her own mother.</p><p>Mrs. Lane turned glinting eyes toward Diana and a brief look of envy flickered across her face. Soon replaced by a serene smile.</p><p>“You must be Diana, aren’t you beautiful, I'm Charlotte Lane.”</p><p>“<em>Lady</em> Diana.”</p><p>Charlotte’s smile became more forced.</p><p>She did not like remembering her lower social status.</p><p>She had risen as far as she could in life. Now her only opportunities were through the advancement of her daughters.</p><p>So far she had done well with Lois. But no matter how successful her children, it would never lessen the sting of her daughter being a Countess while she remained just Mrs. Samuel Lane.</p><p>But, connections were the next best thing to rank, and the long-lost Lady Diana Princeton was a profitable acquaintance.</p><p>“This is my youngest, Lucy.”</p><p>Charlotte motioned the girl forward and she gave Diana a curtsy.</p><p>As quickly as she acknowledged her Mrs. Lane ignored her daughter once more. Moving on to more interesting subjects.</p><p>“I believe you know my eldest, the current Countess of Lonworth, darling Clark’s wife.”</p><p>Clark shifted uncomfortably. Feeling like a prize Miss Charlotte had won.</p><p>Sensing the tension Martha intervened.</p><p>“Clark I do hate to do this to you seeing as how we have guests, but, Mr. Dent left some papers and I can’t make sense of them. Would you have a look for me?”</p><p>“Of course Ma.”</p><p>Clark looked relieved.</p><p>“Thank you, they are in your father’s…they’re in the study.”</p><p>Clark nodded to his in-laws and then left to do his own mother’s bidding.</p><p>Turning her attention to the girls Aunt Martha gave them the gift of sweet freedom.</p><p>“Kara, be a dear and show your cousin the stable. I am sure she would love to meet Allura. And Lucy, why don’t you go too, no need for you three to be hanging about while we talk.”</p><p>Kara didn’t need to be asked twice. Taking Diana by the hand she broke for the door; Lucy following docilely behind.</p><p>Once outside the little girl gave an exaggerated sigh and began marching down the hill. Expecting her charges to follow her. Lucy and Diana exchanged confused looks before following Kara down the hill.</p><p>“Lucy, why did Aunt Martha call your mother Ella? She said her name was Charlotte.”</p><p>Lucy kept her eyes on the ground careful not to trip on the incline that Kara had run down.</p><p>“Mother’s middle name is Elinore, she likes it better than Charlotte so her friends call her Ella. But mother thinks it is disrespectful of children to refer to their elders by such a familiar name. Everyone else calls her Miss Charlotte or Mrs. Lane.”</p><p>Diana nodded at the explanation and tried to think of something else to talk about.</p><p>She couldn’t think of anything so she turned the conversation to Kara, hoping Lucy might join in.</p><p>“So who is Allura?”</p><p>Kara turned around, now walking backward, showing off her superior agility.</p><p>“My horse! Ma finally let me have one of my very own. I had three ponies but they didn’t go fast enough.”</p><p>She turned back and slowed down, giving Diana and Lucy a chance to catch up.</p><p>Reaching the stable Kara ran inside, leaving the older girls behind.</p><p>“Kara don’t run, it isn’t lady-like.”</p><p>Lucy's advice was ignored. Whilst Diana silently rejoiced that Lucy had demonstrated independent thought and speech!</p><p>Yes, there might be hope for Miss Lucy Lane yet.</p><p>As she followed Lucy and Kara she thought how nice it would be to have a friend nearer her own age.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Later that evening</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The Lanes had <em>finally </em>left.</p><p>But not before Mrs. Lane talked about how the one-mile walk from the cottage to Riverfoot Hall. Mentioning how tiring it had been and it taxed her health.</p><p>Taking the hint Clark had ordered the carriage. Personally, escorting his mother-in-law to the safety of her <em>own</em> home.</p><p>The departure of their guests gave Aunt Martha the opportunity to give Diana a tour of the house.</p><p>The tour ended with Diana’s bedroom.</p><p>Opening the doors Diana fell in love with the cozy atmosphere. It was larger than her room at Lois and Clark’s but in some way felt more intimate.</p><p>Painted a soft sky blue with a four-poster bed and a marble fireplace. The bed curtains and drapes were midnight blue. Embroidered with green and gold thread, depicting vines of gold roses and snowdrops.</p><p>The room held the normal furnishings of a bedchamber. Including a mahogany chaise at the foot of the bed and a simple oak writing desk on one of the longer walls.</p><p>Diana spied her trunks stacked against the wall. She wondered how she would ever fit all her clothes in the armoire.</p><p>She turned to tell her Aunt how much she loved her room but froze before the words escaped her throat.</p><p>She almost tripped running back across the room, to the portrait on the wall.</p><p>It was of a couple. A man with raven black hair looked unsmiling from the frame. Next to him stood a woman with yellow hair, high cheekbones, a straight Grecian nose, and magnificent azure eyes…. her eyes……She looked out of her painted prison with indifference and a bit of sadness.</p><p>“I thought you might like to have that. I had a bit of difficulty finding it. but Mary does have such an odd elephant-like memory, it proved less puzzling for her.”</p><p>Diana reached out and touched the canvas.</p><p>“<em>Is she………are they………”</em></p><p>“Your parents.”</p><p>Diana took a shaky breath.</p><p>“I remember her………at least I think I do…………I remember her hair………”</p><p>A pounding knock on the door made both women jump.</p><p>“Sorry.” Said a deep female voice.</p><p>“That’s alright. Diana, this is Barda, she will be your personal maid.”</p><p>Diana stared dumbfounded.</p><p>The woman was a giant! A true giant!</p><p>She was taller than any woman, or man, Diana had ever seen. She must have been 6 foot 4 at the very least! The maid's skin was tan, and she carried herself more like a soldier than a servant. Her arms were muscular, and she moved with the graceful stealth of a lioness. Her long black hair hung in a high ponytail and her dark brown eyes assessed Diana with cool calculation, making the girl's skin crawl.</p><p>
  <em>Barda? More like Big Barda!</em>
</p><p>Something about her seemed vaguely familiar.</p><p>“My Lady.”</p><p>Barda gave a gesture that resembled more of a bow than a curtsy. Then ignoring the pair, she crossed the room with large pounding strides and began to unpack the trunks.</p><p>There was a slight accent to the maid’s words that teased Diana's thoughts, but again, she could not place it.</p><p>But there was no time to wonder about that now, it was time for dinner.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>October 9, 1843</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Diana, where are we going?”</p><p>“Exploring.”</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>“I don’t know, what kinds of dragons do you have in England?”</p><p>“Dragons don’t exist.”</p><p>Kara was becoming annoyed at her cousin’s obvious lack of common sense.</p><p>“Oh, but they must!”</p><p>Diana continued down the forest path, breaking a twig of a tree that had gotten in her way.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because while I was at Clark’s Beth told me about an English knight named George, who killed a dragon! And apparently, everyone was so grateful that they made him a saint! <em>Whatever that is</em>.”</p><p>“But that was a thousand years ago! Dragons don’t exist anymore.”</p><p>“Of course they do, they’re just much smaller now.”</p><p>“How much smaller?”</p><p>Diana stopped, turned around theatrically, and bent down so she could look the nine-year-old in the eye.</p><p>“Have you ever seen a little creature covered in scales, with a long tongue, who can run up walls, and is occasionally green or blue?”</p><p>“You mean lizards?!?”</p><p>Diana shook her head.</p><p>“No, baby dragons.”</p><p>Kara perked up again at the idea of the fantastical living right under her nose.</p><p>“Are there dragons in Dagra?”</p><p>Diana shrugged.</p><p>“Hundreds.”</p><p>They spent the rest of the morning on a thrilling dragon hunt. Which alas proved unfruitful, but was a lot of fun.</p><p>After luncheon, Kara had lessons with her governess, Miss Spencer. Aunt Martha planned for Diana to also have lessons but not until she was more settled in her new home.</p><p>She spent the latter half of her afternoon with her Aunt in the parlor. Watching while she embroidered and attempted to teach the skill to Diana.</p><p>The older woman smiled as for the 73rd time Diana stuck herself with the needle.</p><p>“Your mother never liked needlework. I never understood why she was wonderful at it. But, Polly always preferred to be outdoors rather than cooped up in a sitting room.”</p><p>Martha took the hoop away from her niece and began to unknot the thread which Diana had maimed.</p><p>“What was she like?”</p><p>Martha’s eyes misted over and took on a faraway look.</p><p>“She was my sister, and as far as I was concerned the most wonderful person in the world. From the moment I was born I was her subordinate, at least that’s what <em>she</em> told me……but Polly was also my protector.”</p><p>“Were you close?”</p><p>Martha chuckled.</p><p>“She was a perfectionist and a controlling. If she was going to do anything you could be sure she was going to be the best at it. But yes, despite our differences, we were very close. Besides, it wasn’t me that her competitive spirit ran afoul of, it was Mary.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“As I am sure you have noticed Mary can be something of a non-conformist, and a recluse. My sister has always preferred books to people. She finds the latter more rational and interesting. Made her something of a know-it-all, and neither she nor Hippolyta could stand being wrong. They would argue for days. Mother used to threaten to lock them outside! She would say that if they were going to squeal like hogs, then they could live like hogs! She did it once too. We opened the door the next morning to find them both dripping wet, shivering, and still arguing as passionately as ever.”</p><p>Diana smiled.</p><p>“Things got better between them after Mary’s marriage to Benjamin. Such an odd man, to this day I believe that if those two hadn’t found each other then no one would ever have come along. For either of them.”</p><p>“What is wrong with Uncle Benjamin?”</p><p>“Well let’s just say that as much as Mary loves books, Benjamin loves animals even more. Especially birds. Did you know that when Dinah was born he wanted to name her canary!?!”</p><p>Martha laughed.</p><p>“Of course Mary named her after a character in one of her books instead……or was it the Bible? I can’t remember. Anyway, so not wanting a fight Benjamin decided that Mary could call her Dinah and he would call her canary. Mary went along with it, assuming that the name would drop off once she got older. The nickname only stuck more of course once everyone discovered her remarkable singing voice, so Mary did end up losing that battle.”</p><p>“So they are happy together?”</p><p>“Surprisingly yes. I think that was what made things better between Hippolyta and Mary……and eventually drove them even further apart.”</p><p>“What do you mean? What happened?”</p><p>“Absence makes the heart grow fonder. With Mary out of the house, Hippolyta had no one to battle with, and after a few months, she began to miss her. Their relationship improved as both began to grow up. Well, Polly did at least. She was still a perfectionist but she seemed to blossom. She became much more regal, more refined. She had always been self-assured and serious. This made her quite attractive to the gentlemen of our acquaintance. It used to make me so jealous. I thought no one would ever notice me as long as she was around. But, Hippolyta seemed bored with the idea of being courted. None of the men we knew interested her. They fell over themselves trying to win her affections! But the harder they tried, the more removed from their grasp she became. Until Zachary”</p><p>“My Father?”</p><p>“Yes, he was different from the rest. Zachary wasn’t a love-sick boy, he was a man. Roguish and exciting, with an insatiable thirst for adventure. He had a reckless abandon that fascinated her, and Hippolyta was equally as infatuating to him. She was so proud and sophisticated. Our mother did not approve. The great Diana Lennox thought him boorish and unrefined, despite his being a duke. Mother used to say that a titled person without good breeding was no better than a mule pulling a carriage. When Polly informed her that after a short acquaintance of only three months that they intended to marry mother was horrified.”</p><p>“Did they run off together?”</p><p>Diana's mind filled with romantic tales of forbidden love.</p><p>“No, mother relented. She could hardly have stopped them. When Hippolyta wanted something she tended to win out in the end. And by that time I had already left home to marry Jonathan. I think Polly saw her youth ebbing away. Watching our contentment, she longed for a change for herself.”</p><p>“Were they happy together?”</p><p>Martha looked at the young girl and Diana thought she saw a look of regret pass over her face.</p><p>“No, they were not. For all her beauty and intelligence, and his recklessness and excitement, they were not happy.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Martha felt guilty for having told her the truth. Afraid she'd tarnished her view of her unknown parents.</p><p>But Diana felt no sorrow. What rationale could have justified such a feeling for people she had never known?</p><p>She had seen unhappy marriages and the knowledge of one more hardly held any real sway in her thinking.</p><p>“You said that something drove my mother and Aunt Mary apart again?”</p><p>Martha took a deep breath.</p><p>“As her own marriage began to fall apart, Polly, came to resent Mary’s and my happiness. She became closed off and bitter. I was here in the country, but poor Mary was in London. Things got so bad between them that they quit speaking altogether. Benjamin would bring Dinah to visit, but Mary never spoke to her again…… When she died……. I have never seen my sister so distraught.”</p><p>Aunt Martha had ceased her work on the embroidery hoop.</p><p>Instead turning to look out the window.</p><p>Diana reached out and took her aunt’s hands in hers.</p><p>Martha turned back to her niece.</p><p>“Was my father a very hard man to love?”</p><p>“He had his faults, as we all do. But he was not cruel. I believe the main issue on his part was that he didn’t understand her, didn’t know her. And Polly, she never had anything to give her life purpose.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Well, I had my family, Jonathan, and my children. Mary had her books, numbers, phonetics, philosophies. But Hippolyta never had anything like that…….until you.”</p><p>“Me?”</p><p>“I don’t know who was more surprised at the news that your mother was expecting, us, or your parents. To be completely honest she was uncertain about the whole thing. Hippolyta had never imagined herself as a mother. But from the moment you were born, you were the light of her life, and your father’s as well. You’ve never seen a man so taken with a child as he was with you. Before you could even hold your head up Zachary had bought you a pony, and Hippolyta spent every waking moment with you in her arms. She completely dismissed the idea of having a nanny, not wishing to share you with anyone else.”</p><p>Martha smiled at the memories.</p><p>Diana listened in fascination.</p><p>“And then, were they happy?”</p><p>“Perhaps not with each other, but very much with you.”</p><p>The door burst open and in flew Kara, released at last from her lessons.</p><p>“DIANA!!! Can we go look for Dragons again? We haven’t checked the churchyard yet!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>11:25 pm</em>
  <em> that evening.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Crossing the polished wood floor Diana held her candle aloft. Feeling her way in the dark, trying to find her desk.</p><p>Her white nightgown billowed across the boards as she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders.</p><p>Taking her seat she opened one of the drawers and pulled out a stiff piece of paper.</p><p>Carefully, she opened the inkwell and checked the point on her pen.</p><p>Moving the candle closer to cast more light she began her letter.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dear Bruce,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                   I have finally met Aunt Martha! She is wonderful! You were right, I like Riverfoot Hall very much, though it is a bit small, but Clark said it was simply cozy, I pretended to agree with him at the time because I didn’t want to admit that I did not know what cozy meant. I have since looked it up and find that I do agree, Riverfoot is quite cozy. Kara is proving interesting and very informative, already she has taught me the proper technique for dunking biscuits in milk and the use of something called a skipping rope. I also have had the misfortune of meeting Mrs. Charlotte Lane, a miserable and untrustworthy person in my opinion and I would challenge you to disagree. She is insufferable and never grows tired of poking her nose in other people’s business. One of the maids, Vanessa, told me that she actually forced her daughters to walk for hours in the rain to keep their complexions white! I think that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard of! I asked Vanessa why having white skin was so important but she wouldn’t answer me and instead crinkled her face up all funny like she had sucked on a lemon and told me to run along and not ask such silly questions. Of course, I found her answer unsatisfactory and went looking for someone with a bit more intelligence than Vanessa, but they all acted like I should have known the answer already. Really it is astounding how simple these English folk can be, of course, I did not know the answer, otherwise, I would not have asked the question. Anyways the housekeeper, Ellen, finally gave me an answer. She said that pale skin was the mark of a lady, I told her that there were two more obvious tellers and she got very pink in the face. Don’t you think that is odd? To judge a woman as a lady because she sunburns more easily? I don’t believe I shall ever understand how the English think……I am happy here Bruce, or at least I am happier, but I wish you were here too. It is very lonely sometimes, Kara is charming but she is very young, Aunt Martha is loving and kind, but it is not the same. I don’t feel I can tell her, or any of them really, the truth of my feelings because I know they all so desperately want me to be happy here, with them, I can’t stand the thought of upsetting them with the truth. I want to be happy here, to truly be Lady Diana Princeton, a proper and fine English lady with completely pointless white skin that will make Mrs. Lane squirm with envy. Though my gaining the latter is not very likely since I have no desire to be shut away from what little sun there is to be had in this wet country. But the truth is that when I close my eyes at night, my dreams betray my true feelings that I try so hard to keep secret. In my dreams I am back, back home, I can see the desert, feel the salty breeze, hear the sound of cool precious water flowing in the palace fountains, I see my sister’s face, I can feel my mother’s love, and it hurts. It hurts so bad I can’t breathe, I wake up every night with a pain in my chest and tears I don’t remember shedding on my face. I miss them, I want to go back, but at the same time going back would equally break my heart. For then I would have to say goodbye to Aunt Martha, and Kara, Clark, Lois, everyone. No, I suppose going back would not solve my problems. I think I am learning to accept the inevitable. But still, it would be so much easier if you were here. I imagine it must be so exciting sailing around the world on your ship! You must think I am being ungrateful and complaining, so just to prove you wrong I have some happy news. I have decided to make a friend! Along with the burdensome acquaintances of Mrs. Lane, I have also met her daughter, Lucy. To be perfectly honest I understand why Lois cannot abide her. She is a mealy-mouthed little thing who seems incapable of making eye contact with anything besides her shoes and is being held captive underneath her mother’s oppressive thumb. But I believe there is hope for her. I must go now, I can hear Barda coming to make sure I’m asleep. I’ll write again soon.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                   Love,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                             The Proper and very English Lady Diana Princeton.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The Next Morning, October 10, 1843</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Diana was the first down for breakfast the next morning. She had something to discuss with her Aunt.</p><p>She found Martha sitting at the breakfast table sipping a cup of hot tea. She smiled and motioned for her to join her.</p><p>Diana sat opposite her Aunt as the latter poured the darkish liquid into a cup with small purple flowers edged in gold painted on its surface. It wasn't large enough to quench someone’s thirst. Diana supposed it was more for appearances than convenience.</p><p>She accepted the cup and took a sip.</p><p>“Aunt Martha, there is something I wanted to ask you.”</p><p>“What’s that Diana?”</p><p>“When Bruce left, he gave me this.”</p><p>Diana produced the note Bruce had given her from the folds of her skirt and handed it across the table to her Aunt.</p><p>Martha took the letter and read the name on its surface.</p><p>“Alfred Pennyworth!”</p><p>“Do you know him?”</p><p>“Yes, quite well, he is a dear old man.”</p><p>“Wonderful! Bruce asked me to give that to him, but I have no idea where he is.”</p><p>“Why he lives at Wayne Castle.”</p><p>Martha returned the letter.</p><p>“Would it be possible to send him this letter?”</p><p>“Why don’t you deliver it yourself.”</p><p>“May I?”</p><p>“Of course, Gotham is only a short distance by carriage. I think the old gentleman would be delighted with the company.”</p><p>“Thank you, Aunt Martha!”</p><p>Diana squealed while Martha smiled.</p><p>“I’ll order the carriage for this afternoon.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>That Afternoon, Road from Riverfoot Hall to Wayne Castle.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Diana watched the passing scenery as they made their way through the forest on the road to Gotham.</p><p>According to their driver, Baxter, they wouldn’t actually be going to Gotham itself. Wayne Castle was right outside of it on an expansive estate.</p><p>Diana tried to imagine what Bruce’s home looked like, but for once her imagination failed her.</p><p>She couldn’t picture anyplace that Bruce would call home. The ship seemed such a natural environment for him. She hadn’t given much thought to his existence outside of it.</p><p>The carriage rocked as they went over a particularly deep pothole.</p><p>“Careful!” barked Barda as she gripped the edge of the seat, shooting deadly looks into the driver’s back.</p><p>Diana turned to her maid.</p><p>Barda looked like she was waiting for an attack.</p><p>She decided to attempt conversation, if for no other reason than to keep Baxter from Big Barda's wrath.</p><p>“Did you grow up around here Barda?”</p><p>The maid didn’t answer. Continuing to survey the forested road like a soldier.</p><p>Diana sighed.</p><p>
  <em>If someone had to accompany me why did it have to be Big Barda!?!</em>
</p><p>The palace harem may have been a walled-in gilded world but at least she had been able to navigate it unabated.</p><p>Aunt Martha had explained to her the social rules of young ladies being chaperoned. Especially when visiting someone for the first time. She found such a rule insulting.</p><p>She could have tolerated it if her companion could have been <em>anyone</em> else. Ellen maybe, or even Aunt Martha. But no, it had to be Barda.</p><p>Dull, unspeaking, critical looking Big Barda!</p><p>The rest of the ride passed in silence. Big surprise.</p><p>At last, the trees lining the road began to thin and give way to a clearing.</p><p>They emerged from the main road to a graveled path and Diana caught her first glimpse of Wayne Castle coming into view.</p><p>Diana let out a gasp and even Barda lost her sour look, for a moment.</p><p>If England had been a shock then Wayne Castle was unfathomable.</p><p>A medieval fortress of dark stone it rose higher and higher into the sky until almost meeting the clouds.</p><p>Complete with turrets, towers, and even a drawbridge!</p><p>The castle stretched up and out in all directions. Swallowing the green landscape as it went. Various types of windows marched along the proud facade and on the largest tower, she could see narrow arrow slits. The kind archers would have used to defend the castle centuries ago.</p><p>It looked like an old knight standing watch that had aged beyond even the nature that surrounded it.</p><p>Completely unfazed by the powerful visage Baxter drove the carriage over the drawbridge and through the looming gate.</p><p>As they passed under Diana looked up and saw the iron teeth of the gate staring down at her.</p><p>The Carriage came to a stop in the central courtyard and Baxter held out a hand to help the ladies down.</p><p>Barda ignored him. Leaping from the carriage, causing the vehicle to lurch.</p><p>Baxter watched her go with an offended look on his proud face. Displeased with Barda’s rudeness, Diana accepted his hand and exited more gracefully.</p><p>“I'll be back for ya in an hour.”</p><p>“Thank you, Baxter.”</p><p>He nodded. Giving Barda another disgruntled look before climbing back into the driver’s seat and urging the horses out of the castle.</p><p>For the hundredth time, she felt to be sure the letter Bruce gave her was safe in the cloth bag. Ellen had called it a handbag and it was impressive. Deep purple and embroidered with birds, it was so small that she didn’t know how she how to keep from losing it. However, it did prove convenient.</p><p>Removing the letter, she tried to straighten what creases had formed during its confinement in the cloth contraption.</p><p>Barda waited.</p><p>Satisfied with its appearance Diana climbed the stone steps to the main doors, with Barda following close behind.</p><p>Diana lifted the brass circular knocker and let it fall back against the wood with an echoing bang.</p><p>Deciding one knock might not be enough she gave the knocker another three swings.</p><p>Halting when she heard the faint sound of footsteps slapping stone on the other side.</p><p>The giant door creaked and groaned as it inched back into the darkness. A man appeared, stepping forward into the light.</p><p>He was around sixty years old and carried himself with a dignified air.</p><p>He was thin, bordering on bony, but his back stood straight and strong, refusing to bend to age. His face was oval in shape with a thin but strong nose. His hair had once been black but was now peppered with gray, at least what remained of it as the top of his head was bald.</p><p>His hair formed a carpet ring around his skull except for his forehead. Which was also bare and creased with permanent worry lines. His blue eyes were small and sincere, squinting in the sunlight. A strong chin and thin mouth framed beneath a stiff mustache that sat in two black lines on either side of his cupid’s bow.</p><p>Seeing the young girl standing before him in her mint green dress and straw bonnet his eyes widened. The sweet older face took on the appearance of being in a dream.</p><p>“Lady Diana?” he asked with disbelief and a note of hope.</p><p>How did he know who she was?</p><p>“Yes? I am Lady Diana Princeton.”</p><p>Something of what she said, or perhaps her accent broke the spell.</p><p>His face lost its dreamlike quality, replaced with keen interest.</p><p>“Are you really? I hadn’t believed it when I heard you had returned, but I can see now I was wrong.”</p><p>Diana smiled. Not sure if his comment was in need of a response.</p><p>Remembering her reason for being there she held up the letter.</p><p>“Excuse us for intruding sir, but I am looking for a mister…”</p><p>Diana looked down at the name written on the note to be sure she didn’t mispronounce it.</p><p>“…a mister, Alfred Pennyworth…Do you know if he is here or where I might find him please?”</p><p>The old gentleman bowed.</p><p>“I am Alfred Pennyworth, butler to the Wayne Family. How may I be of service to you Lady Diana?”</p><p>Diana’s smile grew. She handed the letter to him and returned his bow with a curtsy. As Bruce had taught her to.</p><p>“Oh, I am so glad to meet you! Bruce gave me this letter to give to you.”</p><p>Alfred took the letter. His face concerned.</p><p>He opened the note and scanned it.</p><p>He kept it close to his person making it impossible for Diana to sneak a peek at the contents.</p><p>His face relaxed and he turned back to her with delight.</p><p>“Thank you so much for bringing this to me dear Lady. Now, won’t you and your companion please stay for tea?”</p><p>“Oh yes, that sounds awfully nice.”</p><p>With surprising spryness, the butler threw open the ancient door. Flooding the entryway with light. Bowing again and motioned for the pair to follow him down the hall and prattled happily about the joy of having guests.</p><p>They followed him down a large stone gallery to another set of enormous polished dark wood doors. He opened the door and motioned the ladies inside.</p><p>The hall was dark with various objects concealed beneath sheets. The parlor was bright and, if not exactly cheerful, it at least felt more welcoming and lived in.</p><p>“I will return momentarily.”</p><p>Alfred left the room and closing the door behind him.</p><p>Soon as he had gone Barda picked up an ornate clock from the mantle and studied its various designs and gold inlay.</p><p>It was all Diana could do to keep from slapping the clock out of her hands.</p><p>“<em>Barda! Put that down!</em>”</p><p>The giantess gave her a look that suggested she didn’t care what Diana said one way or another. But she did put the clock down and instead clopped over to the window.</p><p>Diana curled her hands into fists.</p><p>Biting down on her tongue.</p><p>Never in her life had known such an incompetent servant!</p><p>That Big Brute! She didn’t behave like a servant at all! More like a warden.</p><p>The door opened. Distracting her from her indignation.</p><p>Alfred entered smiling, holding a shiny silver tray.</p><p>He put it down on a small table in front of a green settee.</p><p>“Now, please, make yourself comfortable.”</p><p>Diana plopped down on the sofa. Hearing the <em>crunch</em> of her skirt against the upholstery.</p><p>Alfred turned his attention to the other woman in his company.</p><p>“And you miss?”</p><p>“Barda.” A deep voice growled.</p><p>She was a good six inches taller and stared down at the man's bald head.</p><p>Unfazed by this tower of strength Alfred offered her a respectful bow and kissed her hand.</p><p>Diana could have sworn that for a moment Barda blushed, and, could it be possible a tiny smile teased her lips?</p><p>
  <em>She’s actually quite pretty when she’s happy. </em>
</p><p>Barda, once more stoic, pulled her hand away and crossed her arms.</p><p>Alfred acted as if her behavior was normal, instead of the rude insult he should have taken it for.</p><p>“Would you care for tea?” He asked.</p><p>Motioning toward the settee where Diana waited.</p><p>Barda eyed the couch and looked back at the butler.</p><p>The silence dragged and Diana strained as she watched the maid.</p><p>
  <em>Answer him! You're not a mute! Answer when spoken to!</em>
</p><p>“Of course it is such a lovely day, and this window holds quite a majestic view. Would prefer your tea here? Then you can enjoy it for yourself.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>The man’s eyes lit up.</p><p>
  <em>My god! She actually answered...</em>
</p><p>With efficiency, he retrieved an armchair. Placing it for her at the base of the large window. He then returned to the tray and retrieved a cup of tea and a small plate of sweets.</p><p>"Here you madam. I do hope you enjoy them."</p><p>He presented Barda with the tiny porcelain cup, which all but disappeared within her large hand. Sitting the tray of sweets on the window sill. Bowing he returned to his other guest at the settee.</p><p>Barda looked at the chair, then the cup, then the chair.</p><p>Pausing, she sat down with care in the fine chair.</p><p>Looking to the plate she picked up a sweet, rubbing it between her fingers she gave it a sniff. Finally taking a small bite.</p><p>She must have enjoyed it as she reached for two more before turning her attention to the window. Munching away on a biscuit as she watched the view.</p><p>“Now,” said Alfred. Taking a seat beside Diana.</p><p>“Do you prefer crème or sugar?”</p><p>“Both please.”</p><p>He served the tea and the two sipped in silence.</p><p>Diana looked around the room while Alfred helped himself to a jam tart.</p><p>Pointing to a gold and gem-encrusted curved sword that hung over the mantle she asked.</p><p>“I didn’t know the English had access to anything like that.”</p><p>“Oh, do you like it? As I recall it is Indian in the design....but I could be mistaken. Master Bruce’s father was something of a collector. He brought that back with him from his last trip to the east. That must have been around 1826. It was right before—Master Bruce is something of an adventurer himself. He has even added his own selections to the collection.”</p><p>Alfred took another sip of his tea.</p><p>“No, now that I think about it, it couldn’t be from India….Heavens, where is it from?”</p><p>“It’s Persian,” said Diana. Helping herself to another scone.</p><p>Alfred looked at her, eyes wide.</p><p>“Really? Remarkable! You know I have always wondered, do you perhaps know what it's called?”</p><p>“It's called a <em>Shamshir</em>.”</p><p>“Amazing!”</p><p>“You weren’t entirely wrong in supposing its origins were Indian. But, they would have called it a <em>Talwar.</em>"</p><p>Alfred set down his cup and listened in fascination.</p><p>Feeling important Diana sat a little straighter.</p><p>"The Egyptians have another name for it, <em>Kilij.</em> No, wait…that is the Ottomans. Or maybe they both call it that, I suppose I can’t remember.”</p><p>“But then how do you know this one is Persian and not Indian or Turkish?”</p><p>“Because it says so.”</p><p>Alfred looked back at the sword but found no words written on it.</p><p>“Where?”</p><p>“Right there. Do you see that golden design?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“<em>That</em> is Persian writing.”</p><p>“Well good heavens! I had always supposed it to be mere decoration. How did you come across such fascinating information?”</p><p>Diana paused mid-sip.</p><p>Her voice shrunk and grew quiet.</p><p>“<em>My sister taught me.</em>”</p><p>Alfred waited.</p><p>She didn’t continue. But stared at the cup in her hands, her thoughts far away.</p><p>Her Melancholic look broke his sentimental old heart.</p><p>“Won’t you tell me about her?”</p><p>His voice was so kind. She'd fought so hard, but, a few tears rolled down her cheeks.</p><p>She turned away.</p><p>He took the cup from her hand and placed it on the table, understanding.</p><p>For all her grown-up dresses and fine speech, she was still a scared little girl.</p><p>Not so unlike another young woman he had once known.</p><p>“I cannot talk about them at home….They want me to be happy here..........it's hard to act as if the past didn’t exist...... If I talk about it, they will think I am unhappy, and that would hurt them. I don't want to hurt them.”</p><p>The older gentleman nodded.</p><p>“It can be hard to protect all those you love. Sometimes the best person to talk to is the one you know least….What is your sister’s name?”</p><p>Despite the tears that still glistened in her eyes Diana’s face spread into a beautiful smile.</p><p>“Shayera, Princess of Dagra. She loved to learn about swords!”</p><p>Alfred’s eyes widened.</p><p>“A princess? I knew you had been raised in the east, but I had no idea it was a palace!”</p><p>Diana raised her head high.</p><p>“I was raised a princess. In the palace of Sultana Garsiv of Dagra.”</p><p>Alfred stood and bowed again.</p><p>“You’re Highness.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Kingdom of Dagra</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Shayera watched as Prince Kareem left his mother’s rooms.</p><p>He didn’t acknowledge her. Even though she watched him go with her arms crossed and hawk-like eyes boring into his back.</p><p>He appeared frantic. Trying to escape this realm of women as fast as possible.</p><p>Pushing some poor girl to the ground in his haste to flee.</p><p>
  <em>What did that snake do?</em>
</p><p>Shayera loathed Kareem.</p><p>He was a two-faced jackal who delighted in cruelty. He had a reputation within the harem as an abusive master and without as a cold-blooded soldier.</p><p>A servant came running toward her, forgetting to bow in her haste.</p><p>“Princess Shayera! Please, you must come quickly!”</p><p>Shayera ran past the girl towards the rooms that Kareem had fled.</p><p>She could hear the wailing as she neared, making her skin crawl.</p><p>Running through the various chambers she finally found her.</p><p>Servants cowered around the edge of the room, too terrified to venture near.</p><p>Jumping at each new scream as it assaulted the air.</p><p>Nura threw herself on the floor! Wailing she banged her fists against the stone until they bled.</p><p>Horrified Shayera watched her, rooted to the floor in shock.</p><p>The woman pulled herself to her knees and began rocking back and forth.</p><p>"WHY! <em>ALLAH</em> WHY?"</p><p>The Servants Backed Further Away.</p><p>"WAS IT SO UNFORGIVABLE?!? DID I DESERVE THIS? WHY HAVE YOU CURSED ME?”</p><p>Another Scream Pierced the air and Shayera covered her ears as her spine vibrated at the sound.</p><p>"MERCY! I BEG YOU!"</p><p>"N-Nura?"</p><p>"I have no sons! I curse you all!!! Hear me! The day they were born bitterness entered my life! MAY NONE OF YOU KNOW A DAY'S PEACE FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE! DO YOU HEAR ME GARSIV? MAY YOU DIE A THOUSAND DEATHS YOU SON OF BLOOD! SHACKLE AND CHAIN OF MY EXISTENCE MAY GOD STRIKE YOU DOWN!”</p><p>She continued to spew curses against the Sultan and their sons.</p><p>Shayera felt a cold fear work its way up her body.</p><p>No one, not even Nura, criticized the Sultan!</p><p>Nura reached up and began pulling out clumps of her magnificent hair.</p><p>Shayera raced for her.</p><p>Flinging herself to the ground.</p><p>Capturing the hysterical woman’s wrists she held them tight! Before she could do any more harm to herself.</p><p>Nura continued to wail and thrash.</p><p>Shayera turned to the servants.</p><p>“GET OUT ALL OF YOU!”</p><p>With madness driving them they fled the scene.</p><p>Nura continued to fight.</p><p>Shayera struggling to maintain her grip.</p><p>“NURA! NURA! WHAT HAS HAPPENED? NURA STOP!”</p><p>Nura ceased.</p><p>Collapsing against Shayera she dissolved into choking sobs.</p><p>Shayera didn't know what to do.</p><p>Wrapping her arms around the older woman she tried to speak in a calm, soothing tone.</p><p>But her voice wouldn't stop shaking.</p><p>“Nura....N-Nura, calm yourself. What......what's wrong? What's happened? Has Kareem done something?”</p><p>Hearing her son’s name Nura jerked back away.</p><p>Crawling hurriedly away from Shayera.</p><p>Crouched in a corner she spit on the stone, cursing her son and his descendants.</p><p>Shayera watched helplessly.</p><p>What was she supposed to do? She didn't know what to do?</p><p>Getting on her hands and knees she crept across the floor.</p><p>Holding out a hand she tried to coax her out of the corner.</p><p>"Nura? Nura I want to help....but you have to tell me what you need...Nura? Do you hear me?"</p><p>Nura stared at her with wide frightened eyes.</p><p>Covering her face she began to rock back and forth again.</p><p>Sobs palpitated in Shayera's ears as she edged closer.</p><p>Moving slowly, Shayera pulled her away from the corner.</p><p>Wrapping her arms around the older woman she held her arms tightly. Hoping she could keep her from hurting herself further.</p><p>“<em>Sold.</em>” Nura hissed through her tears.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“<em>Sold!</em>” Nura repeated.</p><p>“What are you talking about? What was sold?”</p><p>“<em>A throne bought with blood! A throne bought with blood! Sold!</em>”</p><p>Nura continued to chant as Shayera began to fear she had lost her mind.</p><p>
  <em>What is happening?</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 9: The Debt is Paid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 9: The Debt is Paid</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>November 2, 1843</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Dear Bruce,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>         I have at last finished unpacking!!! Well, I suppose I didn’t do much of the work, but Barda and Vanessa certainly deserve an award for all their efforts. I rearranged my room a bit too, with Aunt Martha’s consent of course, and now my desk sits directly in front of my window instead of beside it. Vanessa thought this was in bad taste and told me so, but I informed her that it was my room and she could decorate hers as she pleased, she didn’t argue and I thought I caught Barda beginning to smile but it may have been a trick of the light. That brings me to my next endeavor, Barda. With all the excitement of moving in finally dying down, I confess I don’t know exactly what to do with myself. So I have made a list of accomplishments I plan to encounter on. (I am not sure accomplishments is the correct word but it does sound very fancy, don’t you think?) Anyways, I shall list them for you here.</em>
</p><ol>
<li><em>Take a thorough look through late Uncle Jonathan’s library for at least one volume of truly good poetry. (The English are so tame with their words that it is dreadfully boring.) However, I suspect a copy of truly tantalizing wordplay may well be just within reach!</em></li>
<li><em>Claim Miss Lucy Lane as a friend and inspire her to have a voice of her own! I have enlisted Kara’s help in this, though she believes it to be a lost cause.</em></li>
<li><em>Learn to embroider, (Aunt Martha’s idea.)</em></li>
<li><em>Walk to every tenant’s farm on the estate if necessary in search of Thomasina. (Mrs. Lane’s missing pug dog.)</em></li>
<li><em>And finally, make Big Barda laugh!</em></li>
</ol><p>
  <em>I know that putting Barda at the end of the list may make that task seem less important but the opposite is true. Hers is my first task but I left it last for impact. She seems completely devoid of humor or even the ability to look pleased, so I have made it my mission to make her laugh! If for no other reason than to see if her voice is capable of making any other noise besides the word no! She really is very infuriating, and I now understand even less why Aunt Martha made her my maid, for I overheard the Cook talking to Desmond about her when Kara and I went to sneak some biscuits. Apparently, Barda’s employment is just as much of a mystery to them as me. According to Cook, she arrived at Riverfoot Hall about a week before I did and practically demanded employment. She had nothing with her but a small bag that was hardly large enough to hold a petticoat let alone a rational person’s belongings. Then Desmond said that he didn’t think Aunt Martha, or the Countess, as he calls her, ever officially hired her because all he heard from listening through the keyhole was Barda give her name, no surname mind you just her given name, announced that she was the new maid and that she preferred to room alone. Apparently, those were also the last words either Desmond or the Cook has ever heard Barda say for she hasn’t so much as acknowledged the other servant's existence since her arrival unless absolutely necessary. At this point, Kara had grown tired of eavesdropping and left but I wanted to learn more so I stayed crouched behind a flour barrel so as not to be seen. Which was no easy task since I had to hold my skirts around my legs to keep them from billowing out and giving away my hiding place…Anyways back to Barda, Cook said she thinks that Barda isn’t a woman at all because of her ox-like strength and the fact that she is undeniably a giant! I am ashamed to admit that I did watch her very closely over the next two days in an attempt to see if she perhaps had one of those large knobs at the throat that men have or perhaps very closely shaved facial hair but alas she does not, and I also have to admit that I feel quite foolish for having assumed this idea plausible for in reality, Barda does not look mannish, it is just that she doesn’t behave as the other maids do. Really Bruce she seems to have no idea how to be a personal maid at all and actually managed to pull a chunk of my hair out the other night when she was supposed to be braiding it (the only hairstyle she knows for hers is always in a loose ponytail) and my screams actually brought Aunt Martha running to my room, who then promptly decided that Vanessa will handle getting me ready in the mornings and Barda will handle cleaning up Kara’s room in exchange for the assistance. At first, I thought this decision would offend Barda but she didn’t seem to care either way and just went back about her business. Of course, Aunt Martha said it so kindly that it is impossible to think anyone could ever be upset with anything she asks of them. She really is remarkable, I hope to make her proud of me and I have been trying to emulate her calm presence, but alas I have been failing because being calm is frightfully dull! (Kara’s words not mine.) Oh another piece of news, though hardly an interesting bit, is that I have begun lessons with Ms. Spencer. They are going fine, I suppose, but I have realized that Ms. Spencer does not see any error in herself or the manners of the English. Thus far I have kept silent as I do not know as much as she does in that regard but her know-it-all tone is getting tiresome and I hope I will have the strength to endure her presence. I have to go now for I can hear Ellen calling me. I’ll write again soon.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                     Sincerely,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                               Lady Diana Princeton</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Diana slid the letter between two books to keep it flat and left to answer her summons.</p><p>Exiting the room she was almost run over by Kara who was attempting to flee down the hall.</p><p>In her arms was what appeared to have once been a chicken.</p><p>The creature, doused in dark blue ink, was struggling with all its might against its captor. But, Kara was not giving it any chance to escape and gripped the bird to her pinafore. Which was also stained with ink.</p><p>A hand holding it to her chest, another clamped down on the beast’s beak to keep it from squawking, she held her captive with iron strength.</p><p>“DIANA! Quick let me in!”</p><p>Diana jumped aside.</p><p>The blonde vigilante flew into the room, kicking the door shut behind her.</p><p>Pounding and wheezing Desmond struggled to crest the stairs.</p><p>“W-W-Which…..W-W-Way?”</p><p>He panted and sputtered for breath. Wiping the downpour of sweat streaming down his puffy red face with his sleeve.</p><p>Diana pointed down the hall.</p><p>Desmond took off! His fat body wheezing and sputtering as he went.</p><p>He rounded the corner and Kara opened the door.</p><p>Poking her head out, glancing rapidly down the hall.</p><p>Sure he was gone she nodded her thanks to Diana and took off running down the staircase.</p><p>Diana watched her go, trying to decipher what was going.</p><p>"Diana?"</p><p>"COMING!"</p><p>Kara and her escapades would have to wait.</p><p>Picking up her skirts she hurried down the stairs.</p><p>"Diana?"</p><p>“Coming Aunt Martha!”</p><p>Diana entered the found parlor to find her Aunt reading over a letter.</p><p>Martha looked up and smiled.</p><p>She curtsied and Martha motioned for her to join her on the sofa.</p><p>Diana plopped down next to her. Smiling at the familiar sound of Martha’s taffeta mourning gown swish as the older woman made room for her.</p><p>“I've received a letter from your cousins.”</p><p>“Are Clark and Dinah coming to visit?”</p><p>“No dear, these are your father’s cousins. Artemis and Alexandra Troy.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Diana had forgotten she had other family. Curious, she tried to recall if these were the two women that Bruce had referred to as men haters.</p><p>Aunt Martha began to read.</p><p>Artemis had pinned the letter in her normal militaristic fashion.</p><p>
  <em>Martha,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I assume by now that the girl has arrived.</em>
</p><p>“The girl! She couldn’t bother to know my name?”</p><p>“Don’t take it personally Diana. Artemis has always had trouble remembering what she considers non-vital information. But don’t be fooled, she knows exactly who you are, and is very interested.”</p><p>Martha continued.</p><p>
  <em>Since you refused our request for her to be raised alongside her Troy cousins.</em>
</p><p>Martha’s eyebrows furrowed.</p><p>“Artemis is also not one for letting things go.”</p><p>
  <em>I find myself in the position of demanding requesting that you allow her contact with them. I will await your reply for when the children can visit, at your home of course as you have deemed ours unsuitable. </em>
</p><p>Martha smiled slightly. Showing Diana where another hand had scratched a line through Artemis’s words and written in neat letters underneath.</p><p>
  <em>If it would not be imposing, Donna and Cassandra are very eager to meet their cousin.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Signed,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Artemis Troy</em>
</p><p>“Alexa must have written that in. She was always the more congenial of the two. This letter is very Artemis, short and to the point.”</p><p>“What does she mean by unsuitable?”</p><p>Martha sighed.</p><p>“When we were told that you had survived a meeting was called of your blood relations. Since they're your father’s first cousins Artemis and Alexandra were privy to the events. Though they failed to attend the meeting in person.”</p><p>“Why didn’t they come?”</p><p>“The twins don’t socialize much. In fact, I can’t remember the last time they left their brother’s house let alone Lancashire.”</p><p>“Why do they live at their brother’s house? Bruce said they didn’t like men.”</p><p>“Did he? Well, that is correct. However, they have little choice in the matter.”</p><p>“Why not? If they do not care for their brother why must they live in his house? Can’t they just leave?”</p><p>“The Troy’s are a respectable family but one of modest means. As two spinsters they have no husbands to provide for them or inheritances. They are dependent on their brother’s generosity. An unfortunate reality but one that must be accepted.”</p><p>Diana crinkled her nose.</p><p>She wasn’t sure how accepting she would be of having to live under the roof of someone she despised.</p><p>“Luckily Zeus is hardly ever in residence. He prefers the solace and order of the navy to his sisters’ company.”</p><p>“Is that why I did not go to live with them?”</p><p>“I admit the answer to that is selfishness on my part. Artemis and Alexandra offered, well more demanded, that you live with them. So you would be reared by your father’s family. But I refused to hear it. I wanted you to live here with us, with me. To be raised the way Hippolyta would have wished………I wanted to be sure you were safe……to have a piece of my sister with me once more.”</p><p>Tears glistened in Martha’s eyes as she looked at Diana; as if looking through a window to the past.</p><p>Taking her hand she brushed a stray curl away from the younger girl’s face.</p><p>“You are so like her……forgive me, child, I know you are not your mother. But I so wanted to know you, to love you as your own mother would if she were alive.”</p><p>Martha enveloped her niece in a loving embrace as a few resilient tears spilled down her cheeks.</p><p>Diana returned the embrace with fierceness. She wanted to protect this kind woman who loved her. But, her heart sank as she thought of Martha’s words.</p><p>
  <em>To love you as your own mother would if she were alive.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She is alive Aunt Martha. Will you ever acknowledge that she exists? Do you realize what you have stolen from her? Can I even speak her name without causing you more pain? </em>
</p><p>Martha pulled away and straightened, wiping the few stray tears from her cheeks. Diana wondered why the English seemed to value being so reserved.</p><p>“Goodness, it must be nearly two o’clock, you should be on your way. It would be most impolite to keep Mr. Pennyworth waiting.”</p><p>Diana smiled in delight. She had forgotten that it was Wednesday!</p><p>“And while you’re gone I will write Artemis and invite your cousins to a nice long stay here with us for Christmas. Would you like that?”</p><p>Diana nodded while she racked her brain. Trying to remember when and what Christmas was.</p><p>“Good, well then off you pop.”</p><p>Diana stood and kissed her Aunt’s cheek before running out of the room.</p><p>Martha smiled as she watched her go.</p><p>Ellen was waiting for her at the door with her bonnet and cape.</p><p>She held out a pair of white gloves and Diana’s expression turned to disgust.</p><p>She begrudgingly took them. Mentally deciding not to wear them, a decision that would have no doubt scandalized her aunt.</p><p>She hated wearing gloves. It was a constant battle of trying to keep them clean and remembering when to put them on and when to take them off. Besides they didn’t even fit! Not since she had managed to grow another two inches! Ugh!!! It was so infuriating!</p><p>Taking the hated accessory she hurried out the front door. She bolted for the carriage, only to have her spirits dampened by the unwelcome sight of Barda. Waiting, unsmiling, with arms, crossed at the carriage door.</p><p>Her decision to make amends with the giantess already forgotten Diana struggled to conceal her irritation.</p><p>Forcing a smile she tried to make her voice sound sweet.</p><p>“Hello, Barda.”</p><p>The maid didn’t respond.</p><p>“You really don’t have to come along......Aunt Martha said I didn’t need a companion to visit Mr. Pennyworth...... I am sure there are many other things you would rather do.”</p><p>Apparently not.</p><p>The giantess’s opened the carriage door and climbed inside.</p><p>Diana dropped the act and let out a frustrated groan before getting in the carriage. Taking a seat beside her silent watcher.</p><p>The carriage lurched into motion and Diana crossed her arms, staring straight ahead.</p><p>
  <em>Why does she always come along?!</em>
</p><p>The carriage rolled along the familiar road in sulky silence.</p><p>After a good twenty minutes, Diana decided to not let Barda’s unwanted and constant presence ruin her day. She took great pleasure in their weekly visits to Mr. Pennyworth and would have to put Barda out of her mind.</p><p>The Carriage Stopped.</p><p>She looked out the window to see they were only halfway to the Castle.</p><p>A man with thick-rimmed glasses and a bushy mustache was standing on the edge of the road. Beside him stood a young girl of about twelve holding a large picnic basket.</p><p>She was watching the man, her back turned to the vehicle.</p><p>Diana saw a red braid escape her wide-set bonnet and fall down her shoulders.</p><p>Diana’s breath caught in her throat.</p><p>For a moment, just one moment her eyes played tricks on her.</p><p>
  <em>Shayera?</em>
</p><p>With joy surging in her breast she began to call out to her, to her sister.</p><p>Raising an arm out the window she waved.</p><p>Before the name escaped the girl turned. Diana saw pale blue eyes looking back at her.</p><p>Her surging joy doused like a weak flame.</p><p>Arranging her face into a polite smile.</p><p>
  <em>Of course, it isn’t her, that would be impossible……quite impossible.</em>
</p><p>The carriage lumbered to a stop and Baxter hopped down from the driver’s seat.</p><p>“Commissioner! Is everything alright Sir?”</p><p>The Commissioner wiped the sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief.</p><p>“Baxter! Thank you for stopping. Would you mind giving us a ride back to Gotham? It looks like rain and I'm afraid we won’t make it back before it breaks.”</p><p>Baxter looked hesitantly back to the carriage.</p><p>“I’ll have to ask the lady but if she agrees I can take you to the fork. I'm driving the young miss up to the manor.”</p><p>“Oh? Well, I'd be grateful for the lift. I am sure we can make it there."</p><p>Baxter headed towards the carriage.</p><p>Diana had been craning to hear but had only been able to catch snippets of the conversation.</p><p>“Milady, this is Commissioner Gordon of the Gotham police department. He was a friend of your late uncle’s.”</p><p>Diana studied the strangers with curiosity.</p><p>“He asked if we could give them a ride so they can get home before the rain.”</p><p>“Of course we will! Barda move over!”</p><p>Barda made a huffing noise. Sliding over so the seat across from Diana was free.</p><p>Everyone now seated comfortably in the carriage, except Barda, whose long legs were now un-mercilessly cramped in.</p><p>As the cart lurched into motion the gentleman offered his thanks.</p><p>“Thank you Lady Princeton.”</p><p>“Diana, please.”</p><p>The gentleman nodded and smiled.</p><p>“I am Commissioner James Gordon, and this is my daughter Barbara.”</p><p>“How do you do.”</p><p>Barbara smiled as she looked Diana square in the eye.</p><p>Diana smiled back.</p><p>“Gossip says that you spent 13 years in the Far East.”</p><p>“Barbara! Don’t be rude!”</p><p>“It’s alright, yes I was.”</p><p>“So do you speak Arabic?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Barbara’s smile grew and she slapped her hands together.</p><p>“Teach me!”</p><p>They struck up a conversation and time passed with impressive speed. Until Baxter pulled the carriage to a halt and the two ceased their giggling and chatting.</p><p>Barbara had managed to learn two phrases, albeit poorly, in Arabic. “Hello, my name is” and “I would like to buy a camel and some cheese.”</p><p>In return, she taught Diana a few words of French that she had picked up from a book. Apple, <em>Pomme</em>, Wig, <em>Perruque</em>, and Actress, <em>Actrice</em>.</p><p>Diana wasn’t sure if that last one should count since they both sounded the same to her.</p><p>When the carriage stopped Diana lowered the window to get a better look at the city.</p><p>It was dark, with tall buildings climbing into the sky, taller than anything she had ever seen. From the city billowed a black cloud of soot and ash that seemed to engulf the landscape in a grayish haze.</p><p>“It is horrible.” Said Diana.</p><p>Barbara stuck her head out the window.</p><p>“Yes, it isn’t very elegant. But, Gotham is the largest industrial city in the empire! It houses even more factories than in London! And Dad says that at the rate the population is growing that it may soon be one of the wealthiest as well.” said Barbara.</p><p>“And one of the most crime-ridden.” Mumbled the Commissioner.</p><p>Diana turned to ask him what he was talking about but he was already getting out of the carriage.</p><p>The Commissioner's boots sunk into the mud of the road as he reached up and lifted Barbara down.</p><p>“Thank you for the lift Lady Diana, please give my best to your Aunt.”</p><p>The Commissioner gave a little bow and began walking toward the monstrous city.</p><p>“Goodbye, Diana!”</p><p>“Goodbye Barbara please come to visit soon!”</p><p>“I will!”</p><p>The father-daughter duo walked side by side down the road.</p><p>Diana watched them go.</p><p>
  <em>Would my father have gone on picnics?</em>
</p><p>The carriage started again and rolled up the road to Wayne Castle.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Wayne Manor</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Finishing their tea Alfred and Diana sat on the settee chatting.</p><p>Barda sat in her straight-backed chair looking out the window.</p><p>“I have been doing some tidying up since your last visit and I have found some articles of Master Wayne’s collection you might find interesting. Would you care to see?”</p><p>Diana nodded excitedly and stood.</p><p>Alfred led the way to the door. Pausing he turned and bowed toward the seated figure across the room.</p><p>“Miss Barda.”</p><p>Barda ignored them. Continuing to stare out the window.</p><p>Alfred remained unfazed by this rudeness and resumed his role as a tour guide.</p><p>They walked down one expansive hall after another.</p><p>Alfred prattling happily about this painting or that tapestry. Peppering the conversation with tidbits about the castle and the Waynes' long residence there.</p><p>“The Wayne’s have resided here since the 9th century. Though they were not the first lords of this castle, which was a mere shadow of its present self in those days. They served the first family who ruled here as trappers and traders. Through various means, they themselves were able to buy the place in the 12th century. When the merchant class was on the rise. The Wayne’s have always been good at making money. It wasn’t until the reign of King Henry VIII that they gained their peerage. That is when the first Bruce Wayne was created Duke of Connaught. Master Bruce was named for this ancestor.”</p><p>Diana nodded, only half-listening.</p><p>The story seemed interesting, but, it was too doused in history for her to follow.</p><p>Alfred ceased talking.</p><p>Waiting for her to begin the next topic of conversation. She didn't keep him waiting.</p><p>“Why are you so considerate to Barda? She doesn’t deserve it.”</p><p>Alfred lifted an eyebrow.</p><p>“And why is that?”</p><p>“She has been nothing but rude. She never takes part in the afternoon, just sits and broods. Aunt Martha even said she didn’t have to come but here she is! Following me around and sulking like the giant ogress she is!”</p><p>Alfred listened to her complaints.</p><p>They walked in silence, Diana waiting for him to respond.</p><p>“Very few are privileged enough to fashion their lives into what they want them to be. Even fewer think of how life is affecting others. Don’t judge others too harshly by what you see Diana. Never forget, no matter how callous one may seem, no one is immune to hurt.”</p><p>Alfred opened a door.</p><p>“I think you are really going to like this. Master Bruce brought it back all the way from Japan!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>November 14, 1843, The Knight’s Revenge somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Bruce placed the lid on the inkwell and adjusted his desk chair.</p><p>
  <em>A place for everything…….</em>
</p><p>Looking down he picked up the letter he'd just finished reading.</p><p>Smiling again at the artful flourishes and swoops of the signature he carefully folded it and put it with the others. Tying them together with the dark blue ribbon.</p><p>
  <em>And everything in its place……</em>
</p><p>As a last thought, he placed the letters in a desk drawer and locked it. Putting the key in his breast pocket.</p><p>Crossing the cabin to the mirror on the far wall he checked the styling of his cravat.</p><p>It felt odd to be so formally dressed while onboard his ship.</p><p>A knock on the door rang in his ears and he squared his shoulders.</p><p>“Come in.”</p><p>“They’ve arrived Captain. They're boarding now.”</p><p>“Thank you, Grayson.”</p><p>The first mate nodded before turning toward the door.</p><p>“John.”</p><p>His friend turned.</p><p>“How many are there?”</p><p>“Enough……eight ships and a good baker’s dozen coming over in the longboats, I just hope the added weight doesn’t sink us.”</p><p>The corners of Bruce’s mouth twitched.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>John nodded again and headed back up on deck, followed by Bruce.</p><p>On one side of the ship stood his crew, lined up.</p><p>On the opposite side was the Crown Prince.</p><p>Surrounded glittering companions dressed in the finest silks.</p><p>Prince Abdullah was 29 years old, dark, handsome, and literally dripping with jewels.</p><p>He smiled. Showing a line of straight pearl white teeth beneath his full beard and curling mustache.</p><p>Bruce bowed.</p><p>“<em>Your Highness.</em>”</p><p>The Prince yawned.</p><p>He gestured towards the chests that sat between the two sides.</p><p>One of his companions bowed and rushed forward. Opening the chest and pulling up a fist of coins letting them fall into the chest with an echoing <em>plunk.</em></p><p>He turned back towards his prince and said something in Arabic.</p><p>Bruce was able to detect the words trick and fair payment.</p><p>
  <em>He must have thought his threats would not be enough.</em>
</p><p>Bruce stepped forward.</p><p>Addressing the group who so far had been content to ignore him and his crew.</p><p>“It's all here, the exact amount you asked for.”</p><p>The Prince's entourage fell silent.</p><p>Abdullah flashed a friendly smile.</p><p>In sluggish English, he responded.</p><p>“As per my father’s agreement with you, an honest and <em>fair</em> transaction on both parts.”</p><p>“I don’t know if I would call selling your sister honest.”</p><p>The Prince’s companions who understood the westerner’s words stiffened.</p><p>“My mother’s <em>ward</em> has served her purpose. As for my sister…her task awaits her.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 10: A Merry Little Christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 10: A Merry Little Christmas</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Riverfoot Hall, Kent England December 24, 1843</em>
</p><p>“Run Kara!”</p><p>“Don’t let him get away!”</p><p>“Faster”</p><p>“LEFT, LEFT!!!”</p><p>“EEEP!!”</p><p>“Get out of the way Lucy!”</p><p>“He’s headed for the door!”</p><p>“DIVE DIANA!”</p><p>The pig, formally known as Doyle, but who would now and forever be referred to as Sausage in Waiting, made a break for freedom. Slipping and falling down the staircase in a mad dash. Managing to wriggle free of the petticoat and vest that the girls had struggled for the past half hour to put him in.</p><p>Following Doyle down the stairs came a barrage of little soldiers in skirts.</p><p>Despite their valiant efforts, Doyle made it to the landing first.</p><p>Kara slid down the banister. Diana, Barbara, Donna, Cassie, close on her heels. Lucy, who was in tears not wanting to touch <em>that horrid pig</em> again came last.</p><p>“GOT HIM!!!”</p><p>Skidding shoes on wood screeched as Kara dove for the pig.</p><p>Doyle had grown wise to her tactics and scurried to the open doorway.</p><p>The troop hit the landing as Doyle disappeared into the parlor.</p><p>They stood frozen.</p><p>"<em>EEEEEEKKKKKK!!!!!</em>"</p><p>The girls covered their ears as a high-pitched scream rang through the house.</p><p>Lucy squeaked, too petrified to cry.</p><p>Kara led the charge. Advancing into the pristine yellow room.</p><p>Mrs. Lane stood on top a dainty ottoman that swayed and groaned under the unwanted weight. She clawed at the air with one hand while the other hand raised her skirt so high in the air that it was an embarrassment.</p><p>Cowering on the floor, locked in Mrs. Lane’s gaze, sprawled Doyle.</p><p>He'd had the added displeasure of being boxed on the ear with Mrs. Lane's fan.</p><p>The poor creature.</p><p>All he wanted was to escape from this nightmare and return to the safety of the barn.</p><p>“GET IT AWAY, GET IT AWAY! BEAST!!!” Mrs. Lane screamed.</p><p>Kara and Donna fell on him! Grabbing him around the middle and wrestling him down with their combined weight.</p><p>“Hurray!!! You did it!”</p><p>Cheered Cassie who had found the whole experience a delightful game.</p><p>Diana, Barbara, and even Lucy offered grateful applause.</p><p>The girls were too busy celebrating to notice that Mrs. Lane was still perched on the ottoman.</p><p>“<em>Ahem</em>,”</p><p>The little troop stopped cheering. Aunt Martha was watching them.</p><p>“Caroline?”</p><p>“He’s for the Opera! He’s the star!”</p><p>Kara took her hand off Doyle’s back. The pig began to squirm again, and Kara hurriedly went back to helping Donna hold him down.</p><p>Hearing that the pig was an actor Oliver, who had been watching the scene from his chair, burst into laughter. Throwing himself back and causing his chair to teeter.</p><p>Ignoring Oliver Aunt Martha held out a hand to help Mrs. Lane down from her perch.</p><p>She refused to budge.</p><p>“Girls, take the pig back to the barn.”</p><p>Aunt Martha tried to soothe Mrs. Lane who had begun to whimper.</p><p>A chorus of protest rose up from the group. Begging to keep Doyle inside. Declaring the whole production ruined without their main player.</p><p>Tears rolled down Oliver's face.</p><p>Mrs. Lane began to cry.</p><p>Doyle let out a loud <em>SNORT</em> that echoed across the room and vibrated in everyone’s ears.</p><p>The snort was the final straw.</p><p>Mrs. Lane’s skin blanched a deathly pale, her eyes rolled back, and her body began to crumble towards the ground.</p><p>Oliver jumped to his feet! Managing to catch the fainted woman before she hit the ground. Laying her on the settee. Aunt Martha began slapping Mrs. Lane's wrists to try and revive her.</p><p>Turning Martha spied the frozen group and Doyle watching with wide eyes.</p><p>“Out!”</p><p>The five leaped towards the exit. Cassie, Donna, and Kara pulling and pushing the squealing Doyle through the parlor doors.</p><p>Lucy stood rooted to the floor. Watching Mrs. Kent try to revive her mother while Oliver fanned her with a handkerchief.</p><p>Diana looked back.</p><p>Running back, she grabbed Lucy's arm.</p><p>“Come on!”</p><p>Pulling her out the door, kicking it closed behind them.</p><p>Oliver hollered for his wife as the door closed cutting off his words.</p><p>In the foyer, the stern eyes and crossed arms of Big Barda stopped them.</p><p>Doyle gave out a squeak as if to ask the giantess to save him from these ruffians in petticoats.</p><p>With one motion Barda bent down and hoisted Doyle up under her arm. Opening the front door she marched out into the snowy terrain and trudged towards the barn.</p><p>Donna strained and pushed. Closing the front door behind Barda. The rest looked on impressed by the maid’s feat of strength.</p><p>The rapid <em>tip taping</em> of heeled shoes on the polished wood floor beat through the hall.</p><p>Dinah scurried towards the parlor. Her wide skirt <em>swooshing</em> as it brushed the floor.</p><p>Seeing the congregation still in the foyer she waved her hand at them like a flock of chickens.</p><p>“Make haste!”</p><p>Dinah opened the parlor door and slipped inside.</p><p>A loud moaning rang from behind the parlor door and they took to the stairs in a flurry to getaway, Lucy taking the lead.</p><p>An hour later, shut away in an upstairs sitting room, the six girls discussed what to do. Now that their main character had to be recast.</p><p>“Well, there is only one thing to do, Kara will have to play the pig.” Barbara decided.</p><p>“What! I don’t want to play a pig! I'm the Lady!”</p><p>“Yes, but now you have to be the pig as well.”</p><p>Barbara obviously had no consideration of Kara’s outrage.</p><p>“It technically is the same thing, Kara.”</p><p>Lucy's mousy little tone was about to drive Kara to murder.</p><p>“Why don’t you be the pig Barbara, if it is so important, or why don’t you take it Lucy?” demanded Kara.</p><p>Panic crossed Lucy’s face.</p><p>“B-But I’m the sorceress, right Diana?”</p><p>Lucy began to wring her hands and Kara rolled her eyes and groaned.</p><p>“I am sorry Kara but Barbara’s right, it is too late now to assign everyone new parts and you have the least lines,” said Diana.</p><p>“Besides, you’re the shortest.” Added Donna.</p><p>As she lounged in the window seat.</p><p>“No, I’m not! Cassie is half an inch shorter than me at least!”</p><p>“Perhaps, but I can’t play the pig. I have to be Themis.”</p><p>“And why is that?”</p><p>“Because I am the only one with blonde curls and Themis has blonde curls.”</p><p>Cassie gave her head a little shake, causing her <em>natural</em> curls to bounce and jump about her head.</p><p>Kara watched her preen with absolute loathing.</p><p>“Themis could be a brunette.” Said Donna, whose hair was light brown and straight as a pin. She didn’t like the idea of Cassie being able to get what she wanted because of her looks.</p><p>“No, she couldn’t! Haven’t you ever seen the drawing of her in Aunt Alexa’s book <em>hmmm</em>? She has blonde curls!”</p><p>“She has curls but you have no proof they're blonde, the picture is a sketch in black ink! The artist didn’t color in the hair.”</p><p>“Which means it’s blonde.”</p><p>“Well if you get to be Themis because of that, then I want to be a tiger,” said Barbara.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“What’s wrong with being a horse? You were fine with it when I wrote it?”</p><p>Diana wasn’t sure she was on board with everyone taking creative license.</p><p>“Well if being blonde is grounds for being Themis, having red hair is grounds for being a tiger. Besides, it’s more exotic.”</p><p>“<em>Ugh</em> fine!”</p><p>Diana honestly didn’t see the difference. So long as Barbara remembered to play her other roles according to the script.</p><p>With the question of the pig settled they started making sure they had everything ready for the performance. Rehearsing their lines one last time.</p><p>While they were discussing costuming Donna became bored. Turning her attention to the window.</p><p>“Look there’s a carriage!”</p><p>The other girls fell over each other trying to get to the window. Pressing against the cold glass and almost crushing Donna in their excitement.</p><p>“It must be Clark and Lois!” cried Lucy.</p><p>“We have to tell Ma!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Downstairs</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Clark! Welcome home!”</p><p>Mrs. Kent held out her arms to her son.</p><p>Clark bent down to hug his mother. She seemed smaller than before.</p><p>“Lois dear, Happy Christmas.”</p><p>Martha hugged her daughter-in-law with the same affection she had shown her son. Beaming with pride at the pair.</p><p>“Come inside both of you.”</p><p>“I’ll help Desmond with the luggage Ma.”</p><p>“Very good Clark, I’ll send Oliver out to help you.”</p><p>Martha and Lois made their way into the house as Clark began untying their trunk from the carriage.</p><p>Inside Martha sent Oliver out to help and went to give Cook the final headcount for dinner.</p><p>Meanwhile, Dinah, Lois, and Mrs. Lane settled in the parlor.</p><p>“I am so happy for you Lois, Clark must be thrilled.”</p><p>Dinah motioned for Lois to sit next to her.</p><p>Lois beamed. A little smug, she sat next to the other woman. Completely drunk on her own triumph.</p><p>“It is a relief, especially after you made such a disaster of it last time.”</p><p>Mrs. Lane scanned her daughter’s form with a critical eye.</p><p>Lois’s face blanched as she curled her fists.</p><p>Dinah took one of Lois’s hands and gave it a little squeeze.</p><p>“Another mistake like that and your husband will have cause to look elsewhere.”</p><p>Dinah gasped.</p><p>Lois jerked her hand free from Dinah’s grasp.</p><p>Every fiber of her being burning with rage as the sting of her mother’s words hummed in her ears.</p><p>Mrs. Lane watched her daughter expectantly. Waiting for the inevitable, Lois losing her temper….again.</p><p>
  <em>I won’t give you the satisfaction, you old crow.</em>
</p><p>Lois forced her clenched hands open.</p><p>Managing to arrange her expression into a picture of serenity.</p><p>Dinah watched her expression change like she was seeing a dog walk on its hind legs. Mrs. Lane arched an eyebrow with skepticism.</p><p>Yet Lois hadn’t quite won against her natural instincts.</p><p>“Thank you <em>mother, </em>for reminding me that I am nothing more than a <em>broodmare</em>.”</p><p>Mrs. Lane’s lips curled into a benevolent smile. A lesson she had been trying to teach for years had finally been learned.</p><p>“For a woman with no son position is always tenuous. You wouldn’t want to end up like the Princeton girl, subservient to the charity of others.”</p><p>Lois's mouth dropped open.</p><p>Dinah tried to regain her tongue and opened her mouth, but no words came out.</p><p>
  <em>BANG! </em>
</p><p>The parlor door burst open and a blonde-haired streak threw herself at Lois.</p><p>A passel of little girls followed. Bombarding Lois with questions and wishes of “Merry Christmas!”</p><p>Lucy paused once in the room and curtsy. Standing quietly a little away from the group with her hands folded.</p><p>After sustaining a hundred greetings and introductions Lois noticed her sister waiting in the corner.</p><p>
  <em>Just as mousy as ever.</em>
</p><p>Lois mentally chastised herself.</p><p>She had made a mental promise to try and reach out to her younger sister during this visit.</p><p>With a bright and slightly forced smile, she turned to her sister.</p><p>“Hello, Lucy.”</p><p>“Hello, Lois……………Did you have a pleasant journey?”</p><p>
  <em>Figures she couldn’t come up with anything more interesting to say than that.</em>
</p><p>Again Lois checked herself.</p><p>Lucy's eyes darted back and forth between Lois and the floor.</p><p>When she spoke her soft voice grated in Lois' ears!</p><p>She wanted to shake the girl senseless! Maybe then she'd gained some gumption.</p><p>Lois sighed. Maybe sibling closeness wasn’t meant for them.</p><p>“It was fine, thank you.”</p><p>Lucy nodded, looking at her hands.</p><p>“Was London co—”</p><p>“Lulu! Run and fetch me my fan, and for heaven’s sake! Stand up, straight child!”</p><p>Mrs. Lane cut off her youngest daughter.</p><p>Lucy’s face flushed pink as she left the room.</p><p>Dinah bit her lip. Lois rolled her eyes as Lucy did her mother’s bidding. The other children watched her go with sympathy, but Diana’s blood boiled as she looked at Mrs. Lane’s entitled face.</p><p>With two strides she crossed the rug and stood above the hateful woman who sat in a chair.</p><p>“Here,” Diana said and dropped her own fan into Mrs. Lane’s lap.</p><p>Lois tried to stifle a laugh that turned into a snort. Her mother’s face glowed a deep beet red.</p><p>The door opened and Oliver sauntered in.</p><p>“Well, are we all getting along in here?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>7:00 o’clock that evening</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Diana laid her head back against the tub’s rim. Closing her eyes, listening to the peaceful sound of the fire crackling in the hearth.</p><p>She loved this time of day.</p><p>Every evening at 7:00 o’clock, while the rest of the household was preparing for dinner she took a bath.</p><p>A luxury which disturbed her to discover was not conventional among the English.</p><p>The flabbergasted servants didn't understand why she expected to bathe every day! Even Aunt Martha found her request extravagant.</p><p>
  <em>Dear it really isn’t necessary to bathe oneself every day. The use of good soap and a clean cloth is sufficient to keep one’s face and privacies hygienic, and the burden it puts on those below you is strenuous. At least bathe in the kitchen so the water can be poured directly into the tub, then no one will have to carry it all the way upstairs. It will surely cool by the time it reaches you.</em>
</p><p>It may have been childish to do so, but, Diana completely ignored her Aunt. Continuing to take her daily bath in her room.</p><p>The servants began to see her as a spoiled child accustom to getting her way. Not entirely untrue. They could not understand why she insisted on continuing such a <em>foreign</em> custom. In their eyes, it was unnecessary and only increased their workload.</p><p>In an act of defiance, the housekeeper took the maids' complaints to the Dowager Countess. Imploring her to make her niece stop burdening the servants with her whims.</p><p>Deciding that an ultimatum may be the best Aunt Martha said Diana could have her bath. However, the servants weren't required to fill the tub in her room.</p><p>No water, no bath! Unless Diana wished to fill it herself.</p><p>This arrangement pleased the servants. They were certain that once the <em>Princess </em>had to do her own work she would give up. It was also satisfactory to Aunt Martha. Who believed Diana was unaware that she was taking advantage of those below her station. It also kept her from the unpleasant task of having to deny her outright.</p><p>As for Diana, she didn't think about the trouble she was causing. She couldn’t stand the idea of going without a daily bath. How was one supposed to remain clean?</p><p>Coming from a land where hot winds blew and sand stretched on for miles a bath was an almost sacred thing.</p><p>Diana sighed.</p><p>The harem baths had tiled walls decorated with bright colors and jewels. Basins of smooth marble carved into the floor, filled sparkling clear water. Steam filled the space, bringing the scent of oils and perfumes, refreshing the skin from the dry desert sun. Soft laughter echoed off the tile as women relaxed and talked, servants, walked on silent feet massaging shoulders and combing hair with sandalwood combs.</p><p>It was a ritual, and she couldn’t let it die. Even if this tin bowl was all she had.</p><p>But she would not bathe in the kitchen!</p><p>She could accept that this precious time was not accompanied by the scents of lavender and incense. But she was not willing to accept the stench of boiling meat and overcooked vegetables. Servants chopping and hauling all around. NO! The kitchen would never do.</p><p>In the end, the stalemate failed.</p><p>Because of Big Barda.</p><p>When everyone else had refused to Barda pumped the water from the yard. Barda heated it over the fire in a copper kettle, and Barda climbed the endless stairs to pour it into the tub. Never saying a word.</p><p>She took on the burden as if it had always been hers. Diana got her bath and never knew the battle she had started.</p><p>With Barda doing all the heavy lifting the others' resentment towards Diana evaporated. Her requests had annoyed them, but they disliked the unsociable Big Barda more. They enjoyed seeing her do the extra work, even if no one had asked her to.</p><p>The door opened. Diana left her dreams of bathhouses and opened her eyes to see Barda waiting with a large sheet.</p><p>After drying off Barda helped her dress for dinner.</p><p>Diana still wasn’t thrilled with how much clothing she had to wear. That corset was a menace! Nor how long it took to get ready, but she did enjoy the finished product.</p><p>Turning from side to side she inspected her new gown.</p><p>White satin, off the shoulder neckline, and delicate little sleeves of silk organza. Embroidered with little leaves in silver thread on the organza overskirt. The crowning glory, a red silk flower trimmed with green ribbon and glass holly berries on the bodice. There was a similar construction of silk ivy and false berries pinned right above her hip.</p><p>Diana lifted her skirts to view her matching slippers and stockinged legs. She felt a little guilty at having received a new gown when Kara hadn't and had to wear one of her Sunday dresses. Diana had grown so much since coming to live at the Kent’s that none of the clothes Lois had ordered fit her anymore. So, there was little choice but to buy her a new wardrobe and donate the old to the poor.</p><p><em>At least</em>, <em>the poor needn't worry about receiving used items. I hardly had time to wear all of them.</em></p><p>“Sit down,” said Barda</p><p>Diana looked to see the maid motioning for her to take her seat in front of the vanity.</p><p>Diana smiled.</p><p>“Just a minute Big—Uh I mean Barda.”</p><p>Diana rushed over to the chest at the foot of her bed and pulled something out. Hiding it behind her back.</p><p>With a smile so wide, it made her cheeks hurt she rushed back over to the maid and thrust out her hand announcing…</p><p>“MERRY CHRISTMAS BARDA!”</p><p>The giantess looked down at the open palm and took the handkerchief.</p><p>She turned the plain piece of white cloth over in her hand to see a large, and rather crooked, <em>B</em> embroidered on it.</p><p>She looked up from the handkerchief at the girl who still seemed about ready to burst with excitement.</p><p>“It’s a Christmas present,” Diana explained. “Kara said that at Christmas we are supposed to give gifts, so I made you this.”</p><p>Barda nodded her head.</p><p>“It will be good for dusting.”</p><p>Diana supposed, for Barda, it was a thank you.</p><p>Reached into her pocket Barda produced a small box. It had a small square of cream-colored parchment tied with a red ribbon.</p><p>“This came for you. Now sit down.”</p><p>The initial excitement that Barda had also gotten her a present died. Obeying Diana took a seat.</p><p>The maid pulled the brush through her raven locks as Diana untied the ribbon and unfolded the paper.</p><p>It turned out to be a note written in small uniform letters that were so neat they almost looked printed.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dear Lady Diana,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I am sorry that I cannot accept your generous invitation to Christmas Eve dinner, which unfortunately means I will also be unable to attend the debut of your first Opera. Though I am sure it will be a resounding success and I have all the faith in the world in your skills as a playwright. It was beyond kind of you to think of an old man during your holiday festivities, but I am afraid circumstances do not allow me to be away from my duties on this Christmastide. Though I do wish you, dearest Lady, the happiest of Christmases and look forward to your visit come Boxing Day.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                   Many Happy Returns of the Season,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                                                                          Alfred Pennyworth, Butler, Wayne Castle Kent, England.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>      Postscript,</em>
</p><p>
  <em> I have sent along a present that I hope you will cherish, as I have these many years. It was given to me by a great Lady, who very much resembled yourself, whom I believe would have wished it to be passed on to you.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Diana opened the box and smiled.</p><p>A delicate chain bracelet made of linked gold circles was inside. A gold pendant hung from it with a swooping and elegant <em>D</em> engraved into one side of its surface.</p><p>With a squeal, Diana fastened the clasp around her wrist and watched the lamp-light dance across the polished gold.</p><p>She delighted in her present.</p><p>
  <em>What luck that it has my initial on it.</em>
</p><p>Barda sat down the brush and reached for the fine-toothed-comb.</p><p>“When is Vanessa coming to do my hair?”</p><p>Diana asked as she continued to inspect the gift.</p><p>“I am doing your hair tonight,”</p><p>Barda began to section bits of raven mane with the comb.</p><p>Diana’s head shot up.</p><p>“What? B-But!”</p><p>“Don’t jerk.”</p><p>Barda reached for some pins.</p><p>Diana closed her eyes, sure that soon her scalp would have bald spots from Barda’s iron paws.</p><p>Watching through the cracked door crouched Lucy. Smiling she watched Barda create the curled Grecian style Diana preferred.</p><p>Lucy was the one who had taught the awkward ogress her new skills.</p><p>Her own hair was always quaffed with the utmost and she was the only one allowed to fix her mother’s hair. Mrs. Lane didn’t trust the hired girl who was their only servant.</p><p>Pleased with her prodigy’s progress Lucy slipped away to finish getting ready for supper.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>7:45 Christmas Eve, Riverfoot Hall.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The table groaned with the weight of Christmas delicacies; roast potatoes, gravy, puddings, bread, vegetables, and sweets; pies, tarts, biscuits, jellies, as well as fragrant soups and broths filled the whole house with mouth-watering aromas. And at the center of this abundant display was the Christmas goose!</p><p>Donna, Cassie, and Kara peered at the sumptuous feast with wide hungry eyes. They waited painfully for the others to come downstairs until Cook drove them from the dining room. They would have to wait for their dinner in the hall.</p><p>Finally, the last guest made it downstairs and they could all enter the dining room.</p><p>While Clark carved the goose and the rest laughed and toasted Diana took a look around the table at everyone in their finery enjoying the festivities.</p><p>Mrs. Lane’s dress had large billowing sleeves that she was battling to keep from sliding into her soup. Next to her sat Lucy, who looked angelic in her flouncy pink dress with frothy ribbon bows that matched the pair in her hair, which she'd curled in long ringlets in the front and a low bun in the back smoothed with pomade.</p><p>Quite a different picture from Kara who sat next to her in a brown dress. Kara's stick-straight blonde hair was threatening to escape its braids, and there was gravy dribbling down her pinafore.</p><p>Next to Kara sat Cassie and Donna who were matching in their simple dresses of red and green tartan. On the other side was Lois, she looked stunning in a mauve gown that was the latest fashion. It had a multi-tiered skirt and brought out the purple in her eyes.</p><p>At the head of the table was Clark. He had chosen a coat of royal blue that matched his eyes, which were on full display as he had not worn his eyeglasses to the meal.</p><p>Clark raised a toast to the joys of the previous years and the expectations of those to follow.</p><p>Oliver whispered in his wife’s ear and laughed as she blushed. Dinah smiled and adjusted his collar before reprimanding him for making jokes during Clark’s speech.</p><p>Diana turned her attention to Colonel Lane, who was sitting next to her. He ignored everyone and ate with a ferocity that showed he was not a man given to genteel mannerisms.</p><p>Commissioner and Mrs. Gordon were also present, sitting on either side of Barbara. Mrs. Gordon was enjoying a pleasant conversation with Aunt Martha, while the Commissioner was trying to get Barbara to hand over the book she had snuck into dinner.</p><p>As they all laughed and ate, breathing in the familiarity of each other’s company, Diana listened.</p><p>Story after story went around the table of times gone by and shared memories. A joint history that she was not a part of.</p><p>Diana tried to keep busy wondering about the significance of everything from the food to the origins of the holiday. Oliver had tried to explain it to her but she became lost after he said something about a virgin giving birth. It was all so confusing.</p><p>“Diana!”</p><p>Diana blinked in surprise and shut out her muddled thoughts.</p><p>“What Donna?”</p><p>“Did your Aunt say if we could use the old dress Vanessa found?”</p><p>Diana smiled and nodded.</p><p>“Yes, she just said we have to be careful with it.”</p><p>Donna beamed from across the table.</p><p>“This is going to be the best Opera ever!”</p><p>Dinner finished and the adults made their way to the parlor where a row of chairs was set in front of a homemade stage. Complete with a rung-up curtain that had been borrowed from an upstairs bedroom.</p><p>Taking their seats, the audience awaited the performance.</p><p>A swarm of yellow curls poked out from behind the curtain and nodded. Dinah made her way to the piano which they'd pushed to the right of the “stage” and played a few introductory cords.</p><p>The head disappeared and Barbara came thru the curtain, careful to keep it closed behind her. She wore a billowy nightdress and held a “scroll” made of discarded newspaper.</p><p>“Ladies and Gentlemen, I, Melpomene, Muse of Drama, welcome you. The tale you are about to see is one of great struggle and perils. Where true love is put to the test and good must sacrifice for the better of all. Without further Au due. I present for your enjoyment the premiere production of, <em>The Knights Pig</em>!”</p><p>The audience clapped. Barbara bowed and scurried off stage, the curtain drew, and the scene began.</p><p>Dinah began playing a light classical piece in the background.</p><p>The lady, Kara wearing one of Ma’s embroidered silk shawls, danced onto center stage. Miming a walk through the woods she paused to pick flowers.</p><p>Next came the dashing Knight! Played by Diana, because she was the tallest. Wearing a pair of Clark’s old trousers with her hair tucked beneath a cap and a mustache painted over her upper lip. She carried a “sword” made from the handle of an old parasol.</p><p>Alternating between speaking and singing, the Knight introduced himself to the Lady and vowed to love her for all eternity.</p><p>After a bought of shyness, Kara forgetting some of her lines, the Lady confessed her love for the Knight. Offering him a phantom rose as a symbol of her devotion.</p><p>Thunder cracked! Pots banged by Vanessa in the background. The two lovers clung to one another in fear.</p><p>Out of the woods came the dread enchantress, Circe! Played to great effect by Donna in an old sheet pinned together with one of Dinah’s brooches.</p><p>Circe scoffed at the pair! Calling love an imaginary game of fools!</p><p>The Knight drew his sword to face the goddess.</p><p>With a cackle, Circe produced a wand, which was actually a leg she had pried off a stool when no one was looking, and cast a spell on the lady.</p><p>Reaching a climax of high notes, Dinah changed the music to one of foreboding crescendos and sharps.</p><p>With a wave of her wand, Circe cast her magic, a handful of flour, and disappeared back into the woods with a sinister laugh.</p><p>Coughing and sputtering the Lady transformed! And with a loud <em>snort</em> became a piglet.</p><p><em>NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!</em> The Knight mourned his lost Lady. Vowing to the moon and stars to not rest until he had saved her from this unfortunate fate. Meanwhile, the Pig, took off running into the woods, dropping her false nose in the process.</p><p>A ripple of laughter came from the audience.</p><p>Now on a quest, the Knight searched for the pig, but to no avail. Dinah played a sad tune. The hero spoke-sang of his determination and plan to enlist the kindly sorceress who lived nearby.</p><p>Right on cue, the sorceress appeared! Played by Lucy in a paper crown. Which she insisted a sorceress would wear since she could conjure anything. She also carried a vase that stood in for a crystal ball.</p><p>In a mix of gibberish and Arabic, which Diana had taught her, and a few words were spoken backward, the sorceress cast her spell. Searching for the little piggy with her magic. But the spell failed, and the Knight turned away in sorrow and fell to his knees in despair.</p><p>Somewhere in the audience, there came a shushing sound as another spectator blew his nose.</p><p>“Fear not oh brave Knight!” Declared the Sorceress. “Another plan I have will return you to your lady love.”</p><p>Spirits lifted the Knight raised his head and begged the Sorceress to reveal what he must do to save his love.</p><p>“Deep in the Underworld, where Hades reigns and dread Persephone rules. There is the one who will know where this trickster and outcast of the gods will hide. Then you may find her and win back the life of the one you love.” The sorceress decreed, forgetting to sing her lines as Dinah had changed tunes again.</p><p>“But how will I find this informant, oh kindly Sorceress?” the Knight implored.</p><p>“I will travel with you and safeguard you from harm.”</p><p>And so, they set off. Climbing imaginary mountains and valleys before coming to the bank of the river Styx. Which was a blanket strung between two chairs.</p><p>There the heroes met Themis. Played by Cassie in an empire wasted gold ball gown that they had found in the attic. Holding high her scales of judgment, which were actually cooking scales borrowed from the kitchen.</p><p>Unfortunately, Themis’s costume was too big. So, she kept having to set down her scales so she could hold up her sleeves.</p><p>“Here comes your informant brave heroes, be sure to not look at her directly.” Themis directed as the heroes tied blindfolds over their eyes.</p><p>Across the river came Medusa, the terror of men, or rather Barbara in a paper-mâché hat of snakes.</p><p>Singing with flare Medusa told the heroes that Circe was hiding on her island. Warning that a test of true love awaited them there.</p><p>After paying the boatman, Donna, with a bag over her head, the heroes left the underworld for Circe’s secret island.</p><p>Arriving they battled Circe’s slaves. Those former heroes whom Circe had transformed into animals. Really it was Cassie and Barbara throwing cushions at them, but Barbara made a point of roaring so the audience would know she was a tiger.</p><p>Finally having defeated her captives Circe appeared. The Knight asked what he must do to save his Lady.</p><p>With a cruel smile, Circe told him.</p><p>“Prove your love for her! Never in all the years, I have wandered have I found true love in the heart of a man. Prove to me that you have this rare thing and I will return to you the one you love true.”</p><p>Dinah began playing an emotional aria on the piano.</p><p>The Knight sang of his love! Sang of how his separation from her had taken the color from his life and now he wept tears of blue. Longing for nothing other than her.</p><p>At the end of the song, silence fell.</p><p>Even the piano ceased to play.</p><p>They hadn't known what a beautiful voice Diana had.</p><p>Remembering the play, Circe raised her hands and pronounced the payment fair. The curse is broken!</p><p>With a cheer, the audience clapped as the pig, now once again Kara dressed as the lady, ran across the stage, and the lovers reunited.</p><p>The Audience stood and applauded while the cast took a bow.</p><p>“Bravo! Well done girls!” cheered Aunt Martha.</p><p>Even Mrs. Lane seemed to have enjoyed the performance. Though the spectators had viewed it as more of a comedy than the tragedy Diana had intended.</p><p>Excited energy palpable the players disbanded. Running around the room accepting praise from their elders.</p><p>“It really was very well done Diana, and I must admit you would make an inspiring hero.”</p><p>Clark smiled at his cousin and Diana beamed while she wiped the last remnants of the mustache from her face.</p><p>“<em>Truly a worthy advisory for any opponent.”</em></p><p>The room fell silent.</p><p>Diana turned to the doorway.</p><p>A tall man with jet black hair and dark blue eyes stared back, his mouth turning into a kind smile.</p><p>“Bruce!”</p><p>Diana ran, throwing her arms around his neck.</p><p>“You came back.”</p><p>“I told you I’d always come back, Princess.”</p><p>“At long last, the prodigal has returned!” Cheered Oliver as he sauntered over.</p><p>Diana released Bruce and Oliver gave him a hearty slap on the back.</p><p>Everyone began to file in. Offering wishes of “Happy Christmas” and questions on his travels.</p><p>“Will you stay for parlor games? And there is still plenty of food left I could have cook fix you a plate.” Offered Martha.</p><p>“No, thank you Lady Kent, but I must be on my way. I only wished to stop by and wish you all a happy holiday.”</p><p>Martha hesitated.</p><p>“Bruce dear, you know that you’re always welcome in our home.”</p><p>“I know, thank you Lady Kent.”</p><p>Stretching on tiptoe she hugged him.</p><p>Bruce stooped and returned the embrace with his free arm.</p><p>Releasing her grip Martha let him go and walked from the room.</p><p>The rest began to disperse. Either busy tearing down the production or changing out of costumes. Except for Colonel Lane, who was on the hunt for a good glass of brandy.</p><p>When nearly everyone had left Clark walked over to Bruce.</p><p>“Where have you been?” Clark asked, glancing at Dinah, Oliver, and Diana who were busy putting chairs back.</p><p>“Your message said we needed to talk. Then I didn’t hear anything for weeks. What were you doing?”</p><p>Bruce’s smile disappeared as he watched the others work.</p><p>“Later Clark.”</p><p>“Is it something to do with Diana? If it involves my family, I have a right to know.”</p><p>“I said later, Clark. We’ll talk tomorrow. Right now, I have somewhere I need to be.”</p><p>Bruce walked past his friend.</p><p>“Diana, this is for you.”</p><p>Bruce held out a brown paper package.</p><p>Diana’s eyes sparkled as she took the gift and ripped away the brown paper.</p><p>It was a book, bound in royal blue with gold writing that flourished across the cover in a familiar script.</p><p>“A thousand and one nights?”</p><p>Diana looked up at Bruce, who was much more on eye-level than when he left.</p><p>“It’s in Arabic, so you don’t forget.”</p><p>Another smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.</p><p>Tears welled in her eyes as she hugged the book to her chest.</p><p>“Thank you, Bruce. Thank you so much.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Midnight Christmas, Road to Gotham.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Bruce put his horse in the stable and began the long walk up to the castle. Pulling his collar up against the wind that howled in his ears.</p><p>Cresting the hill, fighting back against the snow and wind he crossed under the ancient gate. Putting out a hand he followed the stone wall into the courtyard.</p><p>Behind the thick fortress walls, the wind no longer whistled in his ears allowing him to raise his head.</p><p>In the parlor window, a Christmas tree decorated with a dozen red candles glowed in the darkness. In the soft light, he saw the figure of a man sitting patiently in a straight-back-chair. Just as he did each evening Bruce was away. Making sure he would be there to welcome him home.</p><p>“Merry Christmas Alfred.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>December 25<sup>th</sup> Queens Abbey, East Sussex England, 1843.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The younger woman curtsied respectfully. Keeping her eyes down and hands folded behind her back as she waited to be spoken to.</p><p>“Francis has decided that you will be allowed to accept Sabastian’s invitation this year. You will be leaving first thing in the morning when the stage passes through.”</p><p>Her head shot up so quickly she almost forgot to conceal her excitement behind a penitent face.</p><p>“Thank you, Aunt Hortense.”</p><p>The elder continued to eye her through narrowed eyes.</p><p>“Your Uncle expects you to behave yourself appropriately. If we hear one word of misconduct you will be sent back at once. Do you understand?”</p><p>“Yes, Aunt Hortense.”</p><p>The woman nodded, seemingly satisfied, for the time being.</p><p>“There is a reception, your cousins have been invited to attend.”</p><p>Again, her head shot up, but she forgot to conceal her excitement.</p><p>“May I go?”</p><p>“Quiet! Vanity, it’s always vanity with you, isn’t it? Just like her.”</p><p>The young woman bowed her head, so her Aunt wouldn’t see the hatred in her eyes.</p><p>Taking the gesture as one of penitence Hortense smiled.</p><p>“It is an informal affair, a private gathering. Your Uncle has deemed it acceptable for you to attend. With the understanding that you will be in the company of your cousins. Try to be observant of their exemplary behavior and feminine sweetness.”</p><p>Not very likely, she thought. Continuing to study her shoes.</p><p>“Here, Eliza has sent this for you to wear.”</p><p>Aunt Hortense held out a gown. She accepted with trembling hands. But once she held it up her heart sank.</p><p>“I can’t wear this.”</p><p>“And why on earth not?” The suspicious edge returned.</p><p>“It’s too big! It will swallow me and it’s so old. I can’t go to a party wearing this, I’ll be a laughingstock!”</p><p>“For the day of the Lord of hosts shall be upon every one that is proud and lofty, and upon every one that is lifted up; and he shall be brought low. Do not forget the sin of pride that caused the fall of Absalom. You should pray for forgiveness.”</p><p>“Yes, <em>Aunt Hortense</em>…….But this dress won’t fit.”</p><p>The older woman was out of patience.</p><p>“Make yourself productive for once Lina and put your skills to good use.”</p><p>Not waiting for another lecture the girl curtsied and fled with the dress.</p><p>Later, in the safety of her small bedchamber, she held it up to the firelight. Her previous excitement drained from her body.</p><p>She remembered this dress. Eliza had worn it when she was seventeen, which had been almost seven years ago!</p><p>It was of a heavy fabric, dark blue with black lace, puffed sleeves, and an odd pattern of pleating down the bodice. It did not suit her coloring at all. At least not in her opinion, for whatever that mattered.</p><p>But, even beyond its fashionable blunders, it was also impractical. Eliza was a buxom girl and far more robust than herself. She wouldn’t be able to fill out that dress in a million years.</p><p>“What am I going to do?”</p><p><em>Make yourself productive for once.</em> Aunt Hortense’s voice burned in her ears.</p><p>A smile crept across her face. Maybe the old hag was right, surprisingly. She could still put this dress to good use.</p><p>Scrambling under the bed she pulled out her sewing basket and sat on the edge of the creaking Tudor bed. Digging her nails into the seams, feeling the building tension and sudden release of ripping thread, she began to deconstruct it.</p><p>
  <em>This is, in fact, a fine idea! I’ll completely unstitch it, there is a good length of cloth here and a variety of embellishments. I can create a new dress, all to my own design.</em>
</p><p>Reaching into the basket she removed a folded piece of yellowed paper.</p><p>She had limited knowledge of the current fashion, and few opportunities to add to it. This was her sole piece of information about the stylish outside world. A page she had managed to tear out of one of Hannah’s magazines. When they had last visited London three years ago. Using it as her guide she could make a <em>new</em> dress and trust her instincts to make up for any changes that had occurred.</p><p>Her smile grew as she added to the pile of buttons and imagined her new gown.</p><p>“It may be a cast-off, but when I am threw no one will ever remember Eliza Randle’s hand-me-down. All anyone will ever see is me.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 11: Explanations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 11: Explanations</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Wayne Castle, Kent England December 25, 1843, 4:00 o’clock.</em>
</p><p>Clark admired a pair of ancestral dueling pistols that hung over the mantle as he waited patiently in the late Duke’s study.</p><p>Funny that after all these years Clark still so closely associated it with Thomas Wayne. It was probably because, despite the passing of seventeen years, it still remained virtually untouched since the day he died.</p><p><em>Interesting, </em>Clark thought, <em>that he shuns his London home but still keeps this office the same.</em></p><p>The Waynes had not liked the doom and gloom of the old castle or the slow pace of country life. They had made London their main residence and only used the castle infrequently. As a result, it held almost no trace of their existence. Instead being a hodge-podge of the designs, times, and tastes of its past residents. The only exception being this tiny, almost cramped, room.</p><p>Clark couldn’t say if Bruce had left it alone out of respect, or nostalgia, or simply because he was at his residence too little to bother with redecorating.</p><p>
  <em>He never did care for change.</em>
</p><p>Turning his mind away from old ghosts Clark looked out the window.</p><p>The snow had stopped falling and he was sure that back at his own home the children were happily sledging to their hearts’ content.</p><p>He smiled and adjusted his glasses.</p><p><em>Good, </em>He thought,<em> Diana needs a distraction.</em></p><p>He sighed.</p><p>She had been mooning about all day! Every word out of her mouth had been <em>Bruce this, </em>and <em>Bruce that. </em>He had thought she had been getting over this crush of hers. But, after last night it was clear that she had merely become more skilled at hiding her feelings. Which worried him.</p><p>She had hounded him all day with questions and requests to go visit. Twice he had caught her trying to sneak off on her own. Well, actually it had been that mammoth of a maid of hers that had put a stop to it, more of a warden than a maid really. Regardless, it had been insufferable.</p><p>He had managed to escape the teenage barrage under the guise of giving season’s greetings to the tenant farmers; a task he actually did need to complete at some point.</p><p>Thank goodness for his mother. He didn’t know how but Ma managed to pry Diana away from his side long enough to offer him an escape.</p><p>
  <em>What am I going to do about her? She is so young; this infatuation can only lead to heartbreak.</em>
</p><p>It didn’t help that no one else seemed to share his opinion.</p><p>Ma thought it a harmless crush. Dinah thought it a passing fancy. Oliver found it amusing. While Lois had the audacity to remark that it would be a good match!</p><p>Did no one see the dangers of this situation but him?</p><p>Diana was only 15 years old! And she had spent her entire life in a foreign backwater (at least in his mind), and from what little he understood of eastern cultures he felt certain that her upbringing had been particularly sheltered from male influences.</p><p>Besides, Bruce did not see her in that way, and he feared the one-sidedness of this attraction would be crushing.</p><p>
  <em>And just when she was doing so well. </em>
</p><p>In a short span of time, she seemed to have assimilated to the English culture perfectly! Her manners and behavior were of the British noble class, even if her temperament could be a bit brash at times.</p><p>Always smiling and running about with Kara. Drinking in the freshness of the countryside with all the vigor of youth.</p><p>The only hint that she might not be an ordinary English girl was the remaining tinge of an accent.</p><p>Just her speech that refused to conform. The one crack in the façade.</p><p>The door opened, bringing him back to the present.</p><p>Bruce entered and the men smiled at one another, embracing as brothers.</p><p>“Sorry I kept you waiting, Alfred insisted on carols.”</p><p>“I’m sorry to have missed it!”</p><p>Clark smiled.</p><p>Bruce motioned for him to take a seat.</p><p>“So, are you ready to explain yourself?”</p><p>Clark reached into his jacket and produced the letter Bruce had written him a few weeks ago.</p><p>Flipping it on the desk he lounged back in his chair and waited.</p><p>“Sorry if I caused you any alarm.”</p><p>Bruce picked up the note and laid it to the side.</p><p>“Alarm? You disappear for months without saying a word. Leaving only a name, Arthur, as the sole carrier for any correspondence. Just as you have a thousand times before. Why should that give me any alarm?”</p><p>Bruce glared, not amused by Clark’s attempt at levity.</p><p>“Oh, or could you mean that I might have been, ever so slightly, concerned when the man I entrusted with the safekeeping of my cousin dropped her on my doorstep and then disappeared into the night?”</p><p>“Clark—”</p><p>“Oh no that couldn’t be it because you had, <em>technically</em>, done as you said and returned her without a scratch. Or maybe your letter that said<em> will return soon, we need to talk?</em>”</p><p>"Clark—"</p><p>"You left Diana with us. No talk about your journey, or what she was like. No explanation for why it took you a month longer to return than expected. I still know nothing of the monsters who stole a baby girl from her family and hid her for thirteen years! Why would I feel alarmed!?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you finished?”</p><p>“Are you offering an explanation?”</p><p>“Only if you’re finished.”</p><p>Clark waved his hand.</p><p>“No, by all means, go right ahead, wouldn’t want you to get distracted by apologizing.”</p><p>“Thank you, and I did say I was sorry.”</p><p>A smirk crept onto Bruce’s face.</p><p>Clark crossed his arms and shook his head.</p><p>“So, what do I need to know Bruce?”</p><p>“I felt you had a right to know, since you’re her legal guardian, of what was involved in securing Diana’s return. In case it ever becomes relevant.”</p><p>Clark straightened in his chair.</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“The reason I was a month late was because when I arrived in Dagra I was refused entry into the city.”</p><p>“How long?”</p><p>“About a week and a half.”</p><p>“Why? They should have been expecting you.”</p><p>“I never received an answer. But eventually, I was granted an audience with the Sultan…….he was not as, <em>receptive</em>, to the idea of her leaving as you had been led to believe. At least not until certain arrangements were made.”</p><p>“Arrangements?”</p><p>“Once on-board things became more complicated<em>. </em>It became apparent that she was unaware that the reason for my being there was to bring her back to England—”</p><p>“Wait What!?! She didn’t know? But surely it was her idea, the letter said she wanted to come home! How could she not have known!?!”</p><p>Bruce hesitated.</p><p>“She didn’t tell you?”</p><p>Clark was too stunned to hear his friend.</p><p>“Who, What?”</p><p>Bruce paused, allowing Clark to recover a little.</p><p>“Diana, she didn’t talk to you about any of this?”</p><p>“No, she hasn’t said a word and we haven’t pried……if she wants to forget the past….it’s better to let it be…..It doesn’t matter now, she’s happy and safe.”</p><p>Bruce’s eyebrows swooped down at Clark’s cool assumption that all was well.</p><p>He chose his next words carefully.</p><p>“In light of her ignorance before I felt it best to not trouble her with unnecessary facts.”</p><p>“What kind of facts?”</p><p>“Because we were already so late in returning, I had to leave immediately or risk missing the deadline.”</p><p>“What deadline, Bruce?”</p><p>Bruce’s eyed Clark, contemplating his distress.</p><p>“The Sultan wouldn’t let her go without an incentive. So a meeting was arranged with the Crown Prince, that’s why I had to leave as I did…..I held up my end of the exchange and they have sworn not to bother her. But just in case, I thought you should know.”</p><p>Clark gripped the arms of his chair so hard Bruce heard the wood creak and groan.</p><p>“<em>He sold her?</em>”</p><p>“Yes, I’m sorr—”</p><p>“How much?”</p><p>“That’s not important.”</p><p>“How much Bruce?”</p><p>Clark stood, fists clenched in rage, wishing he could smash them into the Sultan’s face.</p><p>“300,000 pounds.”</p><p>The energy drained from his limbs and he fell back into his chair.</p><p>“Dear God…”</p><p>Leaning forward, he held his head in his hands.</p><p>“<em>How am I going to repay you?</em>”</p><p>“That’s not necessary.”</p><p>“No, no I have to…it’s too much, it’s just too much.”</p><p>“Clark, I don’t expect anything.”</p><p>“I can’t just let you buy her freedom while I contribute nothing!”</p><p>“You don’t have a choice.”</p><p>Clark stared at him dumbfounded. Then looked at his toes in shame.</p><p>Bruce was right, Clark would never have that kind of money. He was barely managing now.</p><p>The truth was his father’s death had financially ruined them. His job at the paper, which had been a pursuit of passion, was now a necessity.</p><p>To his shame, he'd had to sell off almost the entire estate to pay the death duties. All that remained was the house. If not for Ma's monthly allowance from her mother’s estate, they would have lost Riverfoot Hall long ago. He was careful though, to make sure she didn't know that.</p><p>“What about her money? Between what <em>Grandmamma</em> left her and the Princeton estate there ought to be enough!?!”</p><p>“You know that Diana’s inheritance isn’t settled. And would you really do that to her? Have her buy her own freedom with the fortune of dead relatives she doesn’t even remember?”</p><p>Clark remained silent.</p><p>“If you did, you’d have to tell her that she was sold like a bag of oats.”</p><p>There was a pause……. Clark couldn’t look his friend in the eye but continued to stare at his folded hands.</p><p>“I know you’re right…<em>thank you, Bruce</em>.”</p><p>“There’s nothing to thank me for. You need all the money you can get now that you have to feed and clothe <em>two</em> growing girls.”</p><p>His smile returned.</p><p>“Heaven help us if Diana is still growing!”</p><p>“She’s a Princeton, you always knew she’d be tall.”</p><p>“Don’t I know it! Do you remember her father? What was he seven feet?”</p><p>“Something like that.”</p><p>“Well, let’s hope that God will be kind and decide that for Lady Diana Princeton five foot ten inches is tall enough!”</p><p>Bruce raised an imaginary glass and the two had a mock toast to the hopes of Diana’s stunted growth.</p><p>“Maybe you’ll get your wish, she’s almost sixteen, most girls are finished growing at her age.”</p><p>Clark’s smile disappeared.</p><p>“She’s still just a child, she needs protecting. Elliot’s written me wants permission to call. He is trying to weasel her out of the inheritance mark my words. I’m worried. He might even try to marry her!”</p><p>“You can’t fight her battles. Frankly, I doubt you would need to. You’re her cousin not her father Clark.”</p><p>“Do you ever think about Zachary?”</p><p>“Not lately.”</p><p>“Seems to be all I can think about.”</p><p>“Don’t Clark.”</p><p>“He died all alone in that big house. Believing the whole time that she was dead……………… He was cheated out of his daughter’s life! I owe it to his suffering to ensure that she is taken care of.”</p><p> </p><p>There was a long awkward silence.</p><p> </p><p>“How’s Lois?”</p><p>A smile broke across Clark’s face.</p><p>“Lois is expecting!”</p><p>Bruce’s eyebrows shot up.</p><p>“Congratulations! This calls for a toast.”</p><p>Walking over to a cabinet he removed a nearly full decanter.</p><p>“Thank you. I admit, after the miscarriage, I had begun to think it might not happen for us. But I have never been so glad to be wrong!”</p><p>Bruce handed him a glass and raised his own.</p><p>“To your future child, whatever it may be.”</p><p>Clark’s smile widened and his eyes sparkled.</p><p>“Heaven forgive me, but I think it will be a boy!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 12: Should Old Acquaintance be Forgot?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 12: Should Old Acquaintance be Forgot?</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Wayne Castle, Kent England January 4, 1844.</em>
</p><p>“What did you say?”</p><p>“Each man envies—the strong openly, the weak in secret. Was I incorrect?”</p><p>Diana stopped walking and closed her eyes. She wanted to isolate herself at that moment, to remember the feeling of each hair on her neck standing on end and the whispering of the wind in her ears.</p><p>Bruce paused as well. Taking a step closer, he put out a hand but didn’t touch her.</p><p>“What’s the matter? Did I say it wrong?”</p><p>Tears stung as she tried to blink them back, opening her eyes wide so the blowing wind would dry them before they fell.</p><p>He relaxed as she shook her head and smiled.</p><p>“<em>Each man envies—the strong openly, the weak in secret.</em> No, you said it right. You said it absolutely perfect.” she whispered.</p><p>Again, tears pooled but they were more sweet than bitter.</p><p>“Are you alright? I’m sorry I upset you—”</p><p>“No!   No, I’m not upset, it’s just been so long since I heard……When did you even learn Arabic?”</p><p>“I’ve always been interested in the study of languages.”</p><p>“Oh…”</p><p>“But I wanted to be sure I bought the correct book.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Thank you</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re welcome, Princess.”</p><p>Diana looped her arm through his as they continued their stroll through the frozen garden.</p><p>“So how are your lessons going?” Bruce asked.</p><p>Diana groaned, causing him to smirk.</p><p>“Boring! That woman is infuriating. Did you know she didn’t believe that I could read and write? For weeks she had me copying letters and sounding out vowels like a child.”</p><p>“Sounds tedious.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Frustrating.”</p><p>“Oh, yes, very <em>tedious</em>.”</p><p>“So, what happened?”</p><p>“Aunt Martha, she convinced <em>Ms. Spenser</em> that I do know English and we could move on!”</p><p>“So, what are you learning now?”</p><p>“Penmanship.”</p><p>Bruce laughed, and Diana punched his shoulder for mocking her.</p><p>“It isn’t funny. It’s humiliating, and whenever she doesn’t have me practicing my letters we are stuck in an endless circle of etiquette! When to curtsy, how low, how often, which fork for this, what spoon for that, standing, sitting, how to say hello, who not to say hello to, how to use a fan, <em>blah, blah, blah.</em>”</p><p>Diana hadn’t noticed that during her rant she had slipped into speaking in Arabic again. Bruce didn’t correct her, instead, he simply continued to respond in English.</p><p>“Every young lady must learn etiquette Diana; it is the backbone of society.”</p><p>“Then society is crippled.”</p><p>Bruce let out a stifled snort and Diana shot him with suspicious eyes.</p><p>“Perhaps, but I am sure you will soon be advancing on to more interesting subjects.”</p><p>“One can only hope.”</p><p>“How is your search for poetry coming? Have we English been able to improve ourselves through the arts?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t know. Turns out late Uncle Jonathan wasn’t one for poetry, I have found nothing of interest in his library save some dusty volumes of something called <em>Shake-spear</em>.”</p><p>“Shakespeare? Did you read them?”</p><p>“Of course not! What do I care to read about how the English use a spear?”</p><p>“Diana, Shakespeare is a person, not a combat method. He’s a poet and storyteller, some say the best.”</p><p>“<em>Humph</em>, Shahrazad might disagree.”</p><p>“True she has him beat in age, but you should read him all the same. I think you might enjoy it.”</p><p>“Alright, since you recommend it. What does he write about?”</p><p>“Everything. Love, loss, family, anger, betrayal, nature, just humanity really."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Or bends with the remover to remove. O no! it is an ever-fixed mark </em>
</p><p>
  <em>That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Within his bending sickle's compass come; love alters not with his brief hours and weeks but bears it out even to the edge of doom. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.’</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Diana stopped walking.</p><p>“He wrote that?”</p><p>“And so much more.”</p><p>She paused, looking up at the blue winter sky, thinking.</p><p>“Very well, I will read them.”</p><p>“I don’t think you’ll regret it, Princess.”</p><p>Diana nodded and the two continued walking.</p><p>After a long silence, she spoke again.</p><p>“It is very cold here, nothing like home.”</p><p>Bruce nodded and kept walking.</p><p>“That’s why you have to keep moving. I am leaving for London tomorrow; I hope the weather holds.”</p><p>Diana stopped and let her arm drop.</p><p>“You just got back, and you are leaving again! Why?”</p><p>Confused, Bruce turned around.</p><p>“I am going to London for my grandfather’s birthday party, not exactly Timbuktu.”</p><p>Diana’s cheeks flushed as she looked away, her face burning.</p><p>“<em>Oh</em>……I didn’t know you had living relatives.”</p><p>“Well, I do.”</p><p>“…why don’t you live with—”</p><p>“Is she not cold?”</p><p>Bruce motioned behind them to Barda, who followed at a respectful distance. She didn’t wear a coat or bonnet and her only protection against the cold, beside a brown dress, was a pair of knitted mittens and a scarf of the same color.</p><p>Diana glanced back before shrugging her shoulders.</p><p>“If she’s cold she can go inside, no one asked her to be out here.”</p><p>Bruce raised a skeptical eyebrow but turned away from the stoic maid.</p><p>“At least she doesn’t seem cold.”</p><p>“Why do you hate your house?”</p><p>Bruce stopped walking and shook his head. Where had that question come from?</p><p>“What? Maybe Ms. Spencer should change her focus to teach you the art of the conversation and let you be illiterate.”</p><p>“You’re avoiding the question.”</p><p>Bruce sighed and threw up his hands in defeat.</p><p>“I do not hate my house, Diana.”</p><p>“But you’re not comfortable here, why?”</p><p>It took him a long time to answer. Diana began to fear he was mad at her for asking. Putting his hands into his pockets he looked up at the large castle that towered over them.</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Palace Harem, Kingdom of Dagra December 1843.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Shayera leaned against a column and watched as a young concubine was led across the courtyard.</p><p>A smirk spread across Shayera’s face as she saw the girl’s haughty expression.</p><p>
  <em>Pretty fool. You can be his toy, but you can’t ever give him a son.</em>
</p><p>Sons were the currency of power within the harem. A son gave you status, a future, a place. Without one you had no future and your position was determined by the Sultan’s fickle affections.</p><p>Garsiv hadn’t sired a child in over ten years, not since he contracted a fever while on a military campaign.</p><p>He had beaten it quickly and been returned to full health, but the physician said he would never have more sons.</p><p>Some thought this an act of God but Shayera knew the truth, and God had nothing to do with it.</p><p>God hadn’t cursed her father, she had.</p><p>At seven years old, she had snuck away in the night and buried a small figure she had made from sticks and scraps of cloth in a corner of the garden. She had cursed the doll, same as she would have the man had he been near enough, to suffer as her mother had.</p><p>It had worked. A fever took her mother from this world and fever took away his chance of ever getting the son he had sacrificed her mother for.</p><p>Now Shayera smiled as she saw the young hopeful make her way to the Sultan’s rooms, knowing she had been the one to rob him of what he wanted most.</p><p>“If you’re not careful your face will freeze that way.”</p><p>Shayera jumped and spun around.</p><p>A boy of nineteen stood over her shoulder, laughing.</p><p>“Oron, what do you want?”</p><p>“Come, little sister, do I need a reason to visit?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Oron shook his head and his dark hair shone in the afternoon sun.</p><p>“Always so serious Shayera, why don’t you learn to laugh?”</p><p>She didn’t answer. He let his smile drop as pity clouded his brown eyes.</p><p>“It’s been months since she left, you can’t stop living because of it.”</p><p>Shayera stiffened and took a step back.</p><p>“Did Maha send you? You can tell her I haven’t done anything, so she can just leave me alone.”</p><p>“The harem’s new ruler didn’t send me.”</p><p>“Don’t call her that. Nura is the first wife, she rules the harem.”</p><p>“Nura can’t do much of anything now, you know that better than anyone.”</p><p>Shayera crossed her arms and turned half away from her brother.</p><p>“If Maha didn’t send you then why are you here?”</p><p>“Nadira told me you weren’t your usual <em>friendly</em> self.”</p><p>“I’m fine, you can tell her that if you want, now leave me alone.”</p><p>Shayera started to walk away but Oron threw out his hand and grabbed her arm so she couldn’t run.</p><p>“Whoa! I just wanted to see how you were…please, Shaye, talk to me. I know I’m not Amira but I’m here if you need me.”</p><p>Shayera jerked her arm free and glared at her brother with hatred.</p><p>“<em>Here</em>? Why weren’t you here when they took her? You want to help now but you should have helped then!”</p><p>Oron’s expression changed and he took a step away.</p><p>“What was I supposed to do Shayera, defy Alab? How, what could I have done, what could any of us do? Shutting yourself off and being even more impossible than usual isn’t going to change anything…She’s gone, you need to move on and realize that bigger things are happening around here and <em>all of us</em> need to be on our guard.”</p><p>“Leave me alone.”</p><p>Shayera walked away and her brother called out after her.</p><p>“You can’t just ignore life because you're bitter!”</p><p>“Go die in hole Oron!”</p><p>Walking faster Shayera weaved her way through the corridors, glowering at anyone unfortunate enough to be in her path.</p><p>At last, she reached to double doors and knocked.</p><p>After several seconds a servant opened the door and let Shayera in, closing it with a creak behind them.</p><p>It was dark inside, only a few lamps lit the various rooms and the shutters were all closed tight.</p><p>The whole place smelled stale and foul, Shayera began to breathe through her mouth until she adjusted.</p><p>“How is she Fawzia?”</p><p>The servant shook her head and Shayera nodded.</p><p>“Is Wafa with her?”</p><p>“No Princess, Wafa left this morning, Maha Sultan asked her to serve in her chambers.”</p><p>Shayera spit on the floor.</p><p>“So much for loyalty. Who’s with her now?”</p><p>“Fadeela Princess, we’re the only ones left.”</p><p>Shayera stopped walking and froze outside the door to Nura’s room.</p><p>
  <em>The only ones left…</em>
</p><p>A few months ago, Nura had a hundred servants at her beck and call, now there were only two. An old woman in her 80s and a young girl who couldn’t be older than Shayera herself.</p><p>Straightening, she took a deep breath and opened the door.</p><p>Inside sat Fadeela with a bowl in her hand trying to coax some food into her mistress’s mouth.</p><p>In the corner crouched Nura or at least the shell that remained.</p><p>Her dark hair was now streaked with gray and hung in unkempt, unwashed strands over her face. Her eyes stared blankly in the distance and her hands clutched a beaten pillow that she stroked methodically. Every so often she would rock back and forth, moaning.</p><p>Setting down the lamp Shayera put a hand, gently, on Fadeela’s shoulder.</p><p>“I’ll take over, you go and rest.”</p><p>The old nurse nodded and Shayera helped the heavier woman stand. She wiped a few tears from her eyes as she left the room that had become a tomb.</p><p>Picking up the bowl Shayera sat on the floor, crossing her legs. She began to hum.</p><p>“Rice and Chicken, it’s your favorite, isn’t it? Why don’t you try some?”</p><p>She held the spoon up to the woman’s lips, but her mouth didn’t open.</p><p>Sighing she tried again.</p><p>“It’s a beautiful day. After you eat maybe you’d like to go walk in the garden…. wouldn’t that be nice?”</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>She gave up…. she didn’t know why she continued to try, Nura hadn’t spoken since that day.</p><p>Resorting to the tactic that was proven to work Shayera held the spoon to the woman’s lips and commanded. “Open.”</p><p>The ghost complied.</p><p>One spoonful, then another, till five, she always stopped at five. No amount of commanding or begging would get her to eat more so Shayera put down the bowl.</p><p>“Why don’t we comb your hair today, <em>hmm</em>? You’ve always had such lovely hair.”</p><p>She reached up to move the greasy strands from the older woman’s face, but a thin hand swatted her away, like a fly buzzing around a horsetail.</p><p>“Maybe tomorrow then.”</p><p>Nura began to rock back and forth, stroking the pillow she cradled in her arms.</p><p>Shayera watched.</p><p>“Oh, Nura…”</p><p>Repositioning she kneeled on the cold floor and leaned over the shrunken little woman, kissing the top of her head.</p><p>“<em>I’ll take care of you… don't worry.</em>”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 13: Belles and Flowers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 13: Belles and Flowers</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>London England, January 5, 1844</em>
</p><p>The carriage jolted over the cobbled street, causing those trapped inside to sit precariously on their seats and try to anticipate the various bumps and sways of the vehicle in order to minimize their own discomfort by shifting their weight.</p><p>She sat cramped against the small window, practically buried beneath Maggie’s skirt, which was the widest and most cumbersome in the carriage. That was how the older girl had managed to garner a seat to herself, except for her squashed cousin that is.</p><p>The rest of the party sat crushed together on the opposite bench. The various skirts, shawls, gloves, and petticoats caused such a voluminous pile that neither the floor nor the door handles were visible.</p><p>She pressed her face to the window, trying to find a crack in its seal where some clean air might have gotten through. The thick cloud of perfume that encompassed the confined space was suffocating. The scents of lemon verbena and orange blossom clung to her nostrils and burned her throat as she tried to breathe without coughing.</p><p>Oh, how she envied Uncle Sabastian. He’d had to ride with the cabby driver up top. He was now free to breathe in the fresh air, or London’s equivalent of it, while she remained trapped down here in this small box with the walls closing in and the air growing staler and sparser by the second.</p><p>She had to think of something else, anything else! Anything besides the walls closing in on her, squeezing her to death in their confines.</p><p>She scanned the other passengers of the car, trying to distract herself by analyzing their appearances. They were successfully ignoring her presence which gave her the chance to stare without being reprimanded.</p><p>Sitting directly across was Aunt Julia, who was listening intently to Eliza as she prattled happily about a potential suitor.</p><p>Julia was decked out in a gown of white sprigged muslin with tiny pink poesies, that made it look like she was trying to hard to appear young and vibrant.</p><p>
  <em>She should really learn to dress her age. </em>
</p><p>She didn’t stop to consider that just because a lady has reached a certain age doesn’t mean she no longer wishes to feel attractive. The vanity of youth blinded the observer to the fact that she was staring every young woman’s fate in the face.</p><p>As the carriage hit another bump they were again thrown up into the air and slammed down against the hard seats.</p><p><em>Ridiculous, </em>she thought.</p><p>The Randle’s could certainly have afforded a carriage of their own, but instead chose to rent one when necessary to cut expenses.</p><p><em>Hypocrite, </em>she mused.</p><p>She knew that both Randle brothers appeared prudent in finance, but Sebastian cared more for the <em>appearance</em> of temperance than the reality of the practice. Something that was glaringly obvious from the draping’s and finery decking the passengers of the hired cab they now all uncomfortably shared.</p><p>She couldn’t help but smile wickedly as she thought of how Hortense’s face would’ve pruned with envy if she could see the ruffle of lace edging Julia’s bonnet. Uncle Francis always kept a tight reign on her finances and would’ve denounced such frivolity, were he here to witness it. That was assuming of course that he and Aunt Hortense could see past the ends of their noses long enough to criticize his brother and his <em>charming</em> family.</p><p>
  <em>About as charming as vipers. </em>
</p><p>Not wanting to be consumed with unpleasant thoughts during her small reprieve of freedom she returned to her inspection of the other occupants.</p><p>She turned her attention to Hannah and Georgiana, sitting practically on top of one another, on the far side of the bench next to Eliza.</p><p>She had always had a hard time thinking of them as two people instead of one. But that was because, beyond the fact that they were twins, they seemed to be equally silly and devoted to clothes, sweets, and teasing her. Not much else seemed able to fit inside their hollow skulls. Right now, they were giggling obnoxiously over a new fan that was lined with tacky purple-dyed feathers.</p><p> <em>Even in dress, you two can’t make a distinction. </em></p><p>Both Hannah and Georgiana wore dresses of powder blue with multi-tiered skirts and lace dripping down the sleeves. Even their hair had been arranged the same. With their long, thick, straight chestnut locks coiled around their scalps in a halo design with a cascade of hothouse flowers nestled into the rich crown.</p><p>She glowered hungrily at the pastoral hairstyle. Thinking of her own ink colored hair that never grew past her shoulder blades and was neither curly nor straight but waved and was obnoxiously voluminous. She could never have achieved such a display without the aid of false hair plaits, something Uncle Francis swore was the mark of a licentious woman and so had banned her from even asking about it. A small spark of satisfaction did enter her thoughts as she noticed that one of Georgiana’s carefully sculpted chestnut tubes was beginning to slip.</p><p>
  <em>Well, my hair can at least hold a curl well.</em>
</p><p>When the twins began to pinch their cheeks raw to make them rosy, she moved on to assessing Eliza.</p><p>Eliza was droning on about one Lord Stanley March. Aunt Julia seemed less pleased than her daughter on the topic.</p><p>“Do you think he will be there? It feels like ages since we saw him at the Andersons' last month.”</p><p>“I believe he may be in attendance. But I council you Eliza, do not go making too forward of advances in your acquaintance with him.”</p><p>“But why on earth not? Don’t you think him the most dashing young gentleman you’ve ever seen!”</p><p>“Be that as it may, I don’t think your father would approve.”</p><p>“Of course, he would, Stanley is a Lord after all, and Mrs. Crowe says he has quite the dazzling prospects in government!” Eliza giggled gayly as she imagined her future as the wife of a member of the house of Lords.</p><p>“Honestly Eliza! Lord or not, it is of no matter if he does not convert.”</p><p>“Oh, that would be no problem mummy!”</p><p>Julia’s face had all the pleasantness of soured milk as Eliza was once again caught up in a non-stop prattle of lovelorn sentiment.</p><p>
  <em>Fool. She disapproves of him for having a foreign-born, Calvinist, for a mother. </em>
</p><p>Julia hated foreigners with a passion and could never accept Lady March for having been born a Swede. It was interesting that she also scoffed at the thought of conversion when Julia herself had converted to Catholicism in order to marry Sebastian. Something she had never forgiven him for. Julia had only mentioned conversion as a hint to Eliza, but Eliza didn’t <em>get</em> hints.</p><p>She felt sorry for Eliza’s obliviousness. Eliza, she had to admit, was the prettiest of her cousins and fairly attractive, if only she weren’t so simple. Still, she was possibly the only truly kind person in the carriage. Eliza’s brain didn’t seem capable of contemplating evil.</p><p>Eliza suddenly laughed and readjusted her bodice to be more modest.</p><p><em>Lucky, </em>she scanned her cousin’s plump curvaceous form.</p><p>Eliza had the ideal hour-glass figure, with an ample bosom, generous hips, and a pleasant plumpness that made her look like a sweet peach.</p><p>Her own figure was her greatest frustration. Too skinny and flat-chested to be a traditional beauty, permanently underweight no matter how hard she tried to remedy the situation; possessing a paper-thin waist and skeletal arms screaming of unnatural thinness but was the only state there had ever been for her. Her frame was small and bony, scrawny, almost skeletal or childlike, with angular shoulders and large hands.</p><p>At least her fingers were long and slender.</p><p>She examined her gloved hands. She didn’t have dainty lace ones like the other ladies but only rough black traveling gloves. She knew it was against the rules of fashion for a lady to appear at an event without gloves, but for once she was happy to be the odd one out. She reveled in the chance to show off her pretty, naked hands. So unlike Eliza’s fat stubby ones.</p><p>The last thing she took notice of was Eliza’s bright sunny yellow dress that had row upon row of ruffles and pleating completely covering the bodice. With all the decoration one might have missed the canary diamond broach she wore. That is, they would have if it hadn’t been pinned front and center of the wearer’s generous chest.</p><p>
  <em>I wonder how it might have looked pinned to the back of her hair instead. Sort of a wink as you walk away. The top of that dress is far too busy for such a jewel to add any mystery. </em>
</p><p>That is what she wanted. Mystery. She wished to be glamourous and elusive. She didn’t want to look like a hothouse flower like her cousins, swooning and giggling like idiots at every man who entered their sphere. But she didn’t want to be cold and haughty either. That was Maggie’s off-putting persona. No, she wanted to walk that delicate tight rope between disarming and unattainable.</p><p>Hannah had said, that to enchant a man a girl had to act dumb, those were the rules of social flirtation. That may have been true, but that didn’t mean a girl should be stupid.</p><p>Lastly, she peered next to her at her cousin Maggie, the eldest of the group.</p><p>Maggie was preening in front of a hand mirror, biting her lips till they looked the color of blood, making herself look as desirable as she could for her suitor, Lord Edwin Chester, the future Earl of Westford.</p><p>
  <em>Why on earth would anyone want that fat, doughy little frog.</em>
</p><p>Lord Edwin had watery eyes and a catch in his throat that made him make a dreadful grunting when he spoke. She had noticed all of this when she met him earlier in the week when on a walk in the park with Maggie and Eliza.</p><p>Of course, the real reason for Maggie’s interest in him was his title. There was nothing Margaret Randle valued more than her position, unlike her sister Eliza who seemed to function purely on sentiment.</p><p>She smiled and held her head a little higher as she noticed Maggie agonizing over her freckles and could see the slight film of powder on her face.</p><p>
  <em>So even you have resorted to cheap tricks of the trade. </em>
</p><p>Both Uncle Francis and Uncle Sebastian denounced the use of cosmetics as unsuitable for respectable ladies. But clearly, that hadn’t stopped her cousin from trying to lighten slightly sallow skin.</p><p>A great sense of superiority swelled within her as she watched the sight. That was her one great beauty, her <em>naturally </em>extremely pale skin. She always marked with great pride how easy it was to see her blue veins and felt triumphant over how iridescent she could look when in the right light. Of course, there were downsides. She couldn’t so much as look at the sun without being burned and at times she looked downright sickly or ghost-like. But, in the end, she knew her pallid skin was the envy of her cousins and the thrill of that sent her mind spinning.</p><p>Just then the carriage stopped, shaking her from her thoughts.</p><p>The door opened and Uncle Sebastian stuck his smiling face into the doorway.</p><p>“We’ve arrived my pretties!”</p><p>She should’ve been the one to get out first to make room for the others to escape, but she was suddenly overcome with nerves and wanted to stay inside the safety of the cab.</p><p>With a smile and a wink, Uncle Sebastian held out his hand.</p><p>Checking to be sure her cape still concealed her dress she accepted his hand and stepped out.</p><p>Uncle Sebastian smiled again.</p><p>“So exciting, your first proper ball Lina!” he exclaimed and gave her a small pat on the shoulder before helping the other ladies out of the carriage.</p><p>She reflected on how this was her first party EVER and again felt her stomach turn with nerves.</p><p>Still, despite her nervousness, she glowed under her Uncle’s acknowledgment and returned his enthusiasm with a shy smile. Marveling at how handsome his face was despite him being nearly 45 years old, an ancient age to her stifled young mind.</p><p>Maggie was the last to exit from the carriage and gave her cousin a superior sizing up. Then with a sickly-sweet expression, she dug in a humiliating barb that sent the whole happy façade crashing down.</p><p>“It must be so nice for those less fortunate to have a taste of the finer things. So long as it doesn’t go to their heads. My, aren’t you blessed Lina, to have this opportunity to be amongst your betters and observe the manners of <em>polite</em> people.”</p><p>She hated how Maggie always dragged out that word, <em>Lee-Nah</em> as if she was talking to a small child.</p><p>The group went quiet and she could feel them all silently agreeing with Maggie’s sentiment. She watched as the kind light died in her Uncle’s eyes as he was reminded of <em>who</em> she was, <em>what</em> she was, and she felt herself being once again put on the shelf in his mind where all pitiable and vagabond charity cases resided, comfortably out of view.</p><p>Looking past his niece Sebastian smiled politely at his wife and offered her his arm to lead her into the grand house. Their four cherished daughters fell into line behind like a parade of pretty peacocks.</p><p>As Maggie brushed past her to take her place at the front behind her father she hissed in her ear.</p><p>“Do try to not embarrass the family tonight. Even if you don’t bear it yourself remember that the Randle name means something here and others may not have the kindness to ignore your association to it.”</p><p>Hatred boiled in her veins as she watched her cousin sashay to the front of the line, whilst she brought up the rear two steps behind the twins.</p><p>Oh, how she hated her cousins! All of them! With their self-righteous attitudes and elevated airs.</p><p>Her anger burned away any sense of nervousness and replaced it with a bitter confidence as she silently swore to make Maggie pay for that humiliating sting and for stealing her moment of attention from her uncle.</p><p>She looked ahead at Sebastian’s ugly puffy face and receding hairline that glistened with sweat as he turned back to answer one of Hannah’s questions. She vowed that he too would know how it felt to be overlooked.</p><p>They crossed the threshold of the magnificent gray stone house, palace would have been a more fitting word for it, and she found herself transported to the most glittering spectacle her eyes had ever seen.</p><p>All thoughts of hurt melted away as she took in the splendid display.</p><p>This entrance to the house acted as a short tunnel for guests to remove their coats and hats before entering the ballroom. Which could be seen at the end of the 10-foot paneled hall like a beckoning portal to another world.</p><p>As she neared the second entrance the house opened up into a glorious room with gold chandeliers, polished intricate wood parquet floors, goldenly details, and a surrounding balcony on the second floor with banisters and railings made of glossy dark wood.</p><p>The musicians had their own balcony at the front of the room amongst the several story windows that reflected the scene within like mirrors. Candlelight bathed the presence in a romantic glow that glinted off all the guests’ finery.</p><p>Everywhere there were elegantly dressed people and footmen in green and gold livery carrying silver trays laden with delicate glasses of drink. In the center of all this majesty, the party came to fruition as dozens of guests danced across the polished floors like angels.</p><p>She felt herself floating higher and higher on the elation of the experience. It was as if she were entering heaven!</p><p>A footman removed her cape and she stepped onto the ballroom floor. She smiled as she caught a glimpse of Aunt Julia’s shocked face.</p><p>She had made good use of Eliza’s castoff; you would never have known it to be the same dress to look at it now.</p><p>It had small, puffed, off the shoulder sleeves that left her arms tantalizingly exposed as well as a low neckline that would have been beyond the limits of decency on a larger busted girl. She had used the black lace as an overlay of the neckline, creating the illusion of a V shape on the rounded cut and to highlight her white skin and the daring off the shoulder silhouette. She had left the skirt free from embellishments, instead using the spare blue material to create a sash that tied in a bow and trailed down the back of the skirt like a train.</p><p>But what was probably most scandalous of all was the size of the skirt. She’d had plenty of spare material and since she didn’t own enough petticoats to add sufficient fullness, she had sewn willow branches into the skirt in order to give it a stiff bell shape that still allowed her to move effortlessly.</p><p>She had left her hair down and pinned the sides up away from her face so that her naturally voluminous hair would give her the illusion of height.</p><p>Head held high she walked onto the dance floor and drank in the curious glances.</p><p>Her triumph was complete when she heard a small throat clearing grunt beside her.</p><p>Turning, who should she find had approached her but Lord Edwin Chester.</p><p>“M-Might I have this dance?” he asked.</p><p>Flashing him a brilliant smile she accepted and was whisked away onto the dance floor.</p><p>As she spun away, she was just able to catch sight of Maggie’s face flush with rage and laughed at how truly ugly it made her cousin look.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 14: He’s a Jolly Good Fellow…</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 14: He’s a Jolly Good Fellow…</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Kane House, London England, January 5, 1844</em>
</p><p>Bruce tossed the reins to a groom and smoothed down his jacket.</p><p>There was already a stampede of people making their way through the door. He held back till the way cleared. When an opening appeared, he crossed the pebbled drive and strode through the double doors. Two footmen bowed to him as he passed.</p><p>The ballroom was already full of people. The sound of laughter and the roar of conversation fought against the music and the warring sounds echoed throughout the cavernous space. Bruce looked around and despaired, knowing it was only going to grow worse as the night wore on.</p><p>Glancing up to the balcony he spied his uncles standing along the banister, locked in what appeared to be a heated debate. Pulling on his cuffs and smoothing the sides of his hair he made his way along the edge of the room to the staircase.</p><p>Once on the balcony, he noted that it was also fairly crowded. Though up here it was mostly older guests, several of whom appeared to already be tipsy.</p><p>
  <em>Another rousing success, Uncle Nathan.</em>
</p><p>Wadding through the crush of bodies he made his way to where his family stood. As he neared the crowd began to thin. When his grandfather came into view, he noticed an empty sphere around the old man populated solely by scattered family members.</p><p><em>At least they have managed to retain a small level of decorum, </em>he thought, grateful that the guests were maintaining a respectful perimeter so that relations might pay their respects unabated.</p><p>He paused before entering the circle, again tugging down on his jacket to be sure there were no creases, and put a hand to his cravat, assuring it was straight.</p><p>Even now, simply being in the presence of Roderick Kane made him feel like that six-year-old boy who ran into his grandfather with mud on his trousers when Bruce tried to show his favorite uncle the toad he had caught.</p><p>At last, he escaped the crowd and entered the realm of relations.</p><p>Standing straight and tall he solemnly approached his grandfather and bowed low to the patriarch.</p><p>“Good evening Grandfather, happy birthday.”</p><p>The old man blinked blankly at his grandson. Bruce straightened back to his full height and stared down at Roderick in his wheelchair, who continued to look unseeing into the distance.</p><p>Roderick hadn’t spoken since he suffered a stroke years ago. Since that time, he had been a wheelchair-bound invalid and mere shadow of his former self, unable to feed or dress himself, and had been under the indirect care of his eldest, and least liked child, Nathan.</p><p>Bruce reflected on how it was insulting of his uncle to maintain the pretense that this party was for his father, instead of an excuse to spend Roderick’s money on amusements.</p><p>Turning he went to great his various Aunts and Uncles.</p><p>“Brucie!” hollered a tall, lanky man who was slightly underdressed for so formal an occasion and was well on his way to becoming inebriated.</p><p>“Hello, Uncle Philip.” Bruce greeted as the man clapped his nephew on the back and ushered him into the family circle.</p><p>Bruce gave a tense smile and began going around the circle, greeting each member respectfully.</p><p>“Uncle Jacob, Aunt Catherine.”</p><p>Jacob, the shortest of the brothers, gave his nephew a stiff nod and the candlelight bounced off his bald head like a polished billiard ball. He may have given a slight smile, but it was impossible to tell beneath his large meticulously trimmed walrus mustache.</p><p>As per usual he was wearing a naval uniform and Bruce noted that the high collar made him appear as if his egg-shaped head were being squeezed off his stocky body.</p><p>“Good evening Bruce.”</p><p>Beside Jacob stood his wife, Catherine.</p><p>Her arms were crossed, trying to arm herself against the other guests, and her slicked-down hair made her face look severe as her eyes darted back and forth across the crowded space as if assessing potential threats and searching for the exit.</p><p>Bruce offered her a sympathetic smile which she tried to return before reverting to scanning the room.</p><p>Moving on, he greeted the next pair in the circle.</p><p>“Hello, Uncle Nathan.” The eldest of the Kane brothers turned from snickering with his wife and gave his nephew a jovial smile.</p><p>“Why Brucie! It’s about time you showed up, Philip here was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it.”</p><p>“Glad to see the Bat’s out of its cave eh!?!” Philip laughed as he gave his nephew another SLAP on the back.</p><p>The little brunette hooked on Nathan’s arm gave an impatient cough.</p><p>Bruce bowed respectfully at the young woman, just managing to catch sight of Aunt Catherine’s pinched face as he did so.</p><p>“Good evening Aunt Katherine.” He said and could feel Jacob and the first Catherine physically tense beside him.</p><p>The woman beamed as she proudly looked around to be sure everyone had witnessed the greeting.</p><p>“<em>Aww Bruce </em>you look so nice, doesn’t he look handsome Nat? Dear Bruce, we simply must find you a nice girl tonight, after all, you are the only grandson, at least for now.”</p><p>The group fell deathly silent, Bruce remained frozen in a half bow as Katherine’s nasally voice rang above the roar of the ball.</p><p>“I need another drink.” Declared Philip as he wandered off in search of a footman, and an escape from anymore awkward family encounters.</p><p>Katherine was oblivious to anything being wrong and began trying to force the other Aunt Catherine into a conversion. The latter was too shocked to rebuff the attempt.</p><p>Before anyone had a chance to recover their wits a violet streak brushed her way through the group and rushed to the balcony’s banister directly behind Bruce.</p><p>They all turned to see the girl raise an overflowing glass, brimming with the finest dark red wine, over the ledge and pour it out on some unsuspecting gentleman below.</p><p>The girl laughed joyously as the man screamed.</p><p>“Mary Elizabeth Kane!” Cried Aunt Catherine as the girl shook the last few drops from the glass over the edge.</p><p>The laughing youth turned unconcerned to the group.</p><p>“It serves him right for getting engaged without <em>first </em>proposing to me.” She declared, setting the wineglass down carelessly on the banister’s rail. “I was looking forward to rejecting him, now it is all dreadfully disappointing. He deserves a good soaking for spoiling my fun!”</p><p>At this Uncle Nathan let out a snort followed by thunderous laughter that caused him to thrash back and forth, slapping his leg in amusement. Jacob and Catherine both watched this display with disgust whilst the girl again laughed at her fine joke.</p><p>Her hazel eyes lit up with excitement when she saw Bruce and she rushed into the circle throwing her arms around his neck and gave him a long kiss on the cheek.</p><p>“BRUCE! I didn’t know you were coming! When did you get back in town? You simply must come with me; Kate and Beth are just dying to see you!” She pulled on his arms, trying in vain to move him towards the staircase.</p><p>“Hello, Bette.” Bruce greeted as she good-naturedly reached up to ruffle her younger cousin’s hair, but he raised his head out of her reach.</p><p>“Go on Brucie, have some fun with the young people.” Said Uncle Nathan as he recovered from laughing.</p><p>Bette looped her arm through Bruce’s and began walking towards the stairs.</p><p>“Have fun!” added Katherine.</p><p>Bette completely ignored the other woman’s presence and began gayly catching Bruce up on all the gossip he had missed since he’d been away.</p><p>Once they had descended the stair the sound of Katherine’s winy voice again assaulted their ears as she cried out in excitement.</p><p>“WHY YOU’RE GRACE! I HAD NO IDEA YOU WOULD BE HERE!”</p><p>Bette rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Honestly! Who does she think she’s fooling?” Bette dropped Bruce’s arm and ran into the river of party guests, fully expecting her cousin to follow suit, which he did.</p><p>“Bruce!” a red-haired girl of medium height with sausage curls waved him over. Next to her stood her twin sister, identical in every way except her hair, which was a dark brown like their late mother’s.</p><p>“Kate, Beth, look who I’ve found!” announced Bette as the two cousins crushed Bruce in a group hug.</p><p>Bruce smiled as the girls released him and kissed each of their hands.</p><p>“Lovely as ever Beth.”</p><p>“Flatterer.” Giggled Beth.</p><p>“Pretty as always Katie.” Complimented Bruce.</p><p>“Liar!” Laughed Kate as she boxed him with her fan.</p><p>“He was trapped up top with the ancestors, but I’ve saved him, so we can have some fun!” Bette cheered while Beth groaned.</p><p>“<em>Ugh,</em> so you’ve seen Kathy’s new ring? Hideous creature, it’ll break her finger it’s so heavy!” Kate jeered.</p><p>“Katie! How rude, you know she told us to call her <em>Aunt Katherine</em>.” Beth mocked in her new Aunt, who was several months her junior, imitating her nasally voice.</p><p>“<em>Humph</em>,” Bette snorted, “Katherine my old shoe, she was Kathy when I found her and Kathy she will remain. Ungrateful guttersnipe, she wouldn’t be in this family if I hadn’t introduced her to Uncle Nat.”</p><p>“I bet you regret that now.” Kate laughed.</p><p>“Why did you ever speak to her in the first place Bette? This is all your fault and I blame you completely.” Lamented Beth.</p><p>“Because <em>Elizabeth Kane</em>, I found her amusing! She was so delightfully stupid and such a blatant gold digger that I thought she could be good for a laugh.”</p><p>“Do you always choose your friends with such a high criterion?” Bruce asked, raising a judgmental eyebrow in Bette’s direction.</p><p>“Only when I’m bored.”</p><p>“Oh well she’s here for now I suppose,” resigned Beth. “Just what we needed, <em>another</em> Katherine.”</p><p>Just then Uncle Phillip appeared behind Kate, who let out a scream, and raised his sloshing wine glass accusingly into Beth’s face, slurring, “better than <em>another </em>Elizabeth! Why can’t any of you be unique?”</p><p>Phillip stumbled away in search of a refill, as he had inadvertently spilled his glass out all over the polished floor.</p><p>The four amused themselves for a moment watching him go before the girls returned to their poorly researched speculations on Kathy.</p><p>Bruce meanwhile had lost what little interest he held for their conversation and snuck away while they were arguing.</p><p>
  <em>What a pity they can’t turn their detective work into something constructive. </em>
</p><p>He felt sorry for his cousins, believing their petty behavior to be more the product of boredom than malice, except maybe Bette. Their pitiable lives of social gatherings and restricted social circle left them starved for stimulation and excitement. And, since their brains had been neglected in the training of any discipline or hard study, as all well brought up young ladies ought to be, they had little choice but to amuse themselves at the expense of those around them.</p><p>He spied a friend waving him over and made his way precariously through the crowd to his side.</p><p>“Harvey, you’ve saved me, thank you.”</p><p>“What are friends for Bruce,” the well-built man gave him a friendly honest grin, “Did I see your cousin Bette over there? Do you think she would mind if I asked for a dance?”</p><p>Bruce gave his friend a withering look. “Let it die, Harv, let it die, she is not the girl for you.”</p><p>Harvey made a small pout, like a wounded puppy, but Bruce hoped he would be smart enough to listen and stay far away from any of his cousins, for his own safety.</p><p>Just as quick as it left Harvey’s smile returned and he gestured towards the balcony. “Care to get a better view?”</p><p>Bruce nodded and the two made their way back up to the banister where they found themselves 15 minutes later laughing and joking about old times while they watch the enthusiastic party goers below.</p><p>“It’s good to see you, Bruce, you’ve been gone too long.”</p><p>“Not long enough from this crowd,” Bruce said, looking over his shoulder in despair at his relatives before turning back towards the dancers.</p><p>“Maybe so, but either way, I’m glad you came.” Harvey gave him a sincere smile which Bruce returned</p><p>“It’s good to see you too.”</p><p>They fell into the comfortable silence of old friends as they watched the people dancing by.</p><p>“Harvey, who's she?” Bruce asked, pointing towards a girl in the middle of the dance floor in a dark blue dress with black lace.</p><p>Harvey squinted into the crowd.</p><p>“Umm, wait let me think…yes, yes I believe that is Lord Randle’s niece.”</p><p>“Sebastian’s daughter? Which one, Margaret?” Bruce mentally scanned through the social register for any knowledge he had about the Randles.</p><p>“No, actually she’s not a <em>Randle</em>, she lives at Francis’s estate. Oh, what was her name? I know I heard it somewhere. You see it’s quite interesting that she is here at all, from what I heard she was never officially debuted into society and practically lives in a convent down at Queene’s Abbey, so of course her presence would be something my meddlesome mother would have talked about. Damnit what was her name? Lydia, Sara?”</p><p>“Is she too young to be a debutante?” Bruce asked looking at the youthful little waif that smiled brilliantly at her partner as if all eyes in the room were on her and that was just where she wanted them to be. Bruce smiled at her confidence, even in that…interesting dress.</p><p>“Too young? Heavens no! That much I do know for certain because mother wouldn’t stop talking about how criminal it was. She’s 23! Now, what do you think of that? Doesn’t look it, does she? If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was no older than 16, but then again she isn’t exactly…possessing of a woman’s figure.” Harvey was proud of his delicate assessment of the girl’s lack of traditional beauty, but Bruce ignored him.</p><p>Harvey was right, she wasn’t a traditional beauty, but there was something arresting about her, a confidence and determination that drew you to her.</p><p>“Serena, Selina, SELINA! That’s it! Selina Kyle!” Harvey announced triumphant and Bruce patted him on his back. He had a name, that was all he needed.</p><p>“Excuse me, Harvey.”</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 15: Shall We Dance?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 15: Shall We Dance?</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Kane House, London England, January 5, 1844</em>
</p><p>Bruce threaded his way through the crowd towards her. He had given up on waiting to catch her between dances, the girl hadn’t sat out a single dance, it was time for the direct approach.</p><p>He quickened his pace slightly, pushing himself forward before he had a chance to think about it too long.</p><p>Reaching out he tapped the forest green-clothed shoulder of the gentleman, now directly in front of him.</p><p>“May I cut in?”</p><p>The handsome youth, who couldn’t be more than 18, gave Bruce a sizing up before graciously nodding his head, kissing his former partner’s hand goodbye, and confidently sauntering off in search of a new partner.</p><p>Bruce bowed to the young woman who eyed him curiously, almost as if she were laughing at him, which made Bruce momentarily forget himself and freeze before remembering to offer her his hand and rejoin the dance.</p><p>They glided across the floor in awkward silence as Bruce struggled to think of how to begin the conversation, as was proper. As the minutes dragged on, he cursed himself for forgetting how bloody awkward he was at these things. He was only ever good in the company of close friends or benign strangers he had no interest to impress.</p><p>The longer they danced the more he could feel her emerald eyes laughing at him, and her lips mock him with a feline grin. Damn, were his hands sweating?</p><p>After an eternity of agony, he managed to piece together an appropriate greeting in his head and opened his mouth to speak.</p><p>“Are you always so stoic?” she asked, and the light caught in her green eyes as she tilted her head in question.</p><p>Again, Bruce’s tongue was caught in his throat.</p><p>
  <em>Did she just speak first? That’s not correct, the gentleman is supposed to address the lady. Well, what do I say now?</em>
</p><p>As he mentally ran through all the lessons Alfred had taught him over the years about polite conversation, he heard the music of delighted laughter whip its way through the air.</p><p>“My but you do look severe! Whatever could you be thinking about so intensely?” she laughed, and Bruce found himself smiling.</p><p>“Parliament.”</p><p>He didn’t know why he’d said that, mostly he supposed to see what her response would be.</p><p>Some ladies would fawn and swoon at such a compliment, imagining themselves dancing with a legendary statesman. Others would feign ignorance as a rouse to encourage their partners to speak about the subject at length, educating their poor simple minds and endear themselves as delicate and pure, whilst the truly ignorant might attempt a conversation on the topic in the hopes that it would not be noticed how little knowledge of it they truly possessed…which would she be?</p><p>She cocked her head to the side as her smile fell into a smirk and her green eyes looked at him seriously.</p><p>“How disappointing.” She said.</p><p>Bruce found himself both taken aback and intrigued by this response as this petite little woman’s gaze easily left him and began observing the other dancers with obvious boredom.</p><p>“Why?” he asked.</p><p>She turned back with the uninterested patients of a schoolmarm.</p><p>“I was hoping you might be more interesting.”</p><p>“Are you not intrigued by matters of politics?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Her blunt answer made him smile again while she continued to idly look around the room, hoping for a rescuer from this dull conversationalist.</p><p>“Why not?” he challenged. “Should you not take an interest in the well-being of your country and society.”</p><p>“I could, but why would I, as I cannot vote it could never amount to more than a passing hobby. And since I hold no natural interest in politics why bother cultivating an opinion that I am not inclined to? Just to entertain you with a mediocre conversation that I take no pleasure in. That hardly seems fair Mr. Wayne.”</p><p>Her feline features smiled again as she said his name and Bruce felt his neck grow warm, though to any passerby he appeared as collected dignified as always, oh how looks can be deceiving.</p><p>“You have put me at a disadvantage Madame, you know my name before we are properly introduced.” This time he smiled down at her in genuine amusement, feeling his previous nerves fall away in the fun of their mental game of cat and mouse.</p><p>“Now, whose fault is that?” she purred, and he felt every hair on his body stand on end.</p><p>“I suppose it would be mine, Miss Kyle.”</p><p>Her eyebrows arched slightly.</p><p>“Not so disadvantaged I see. You’re proving rather interesting after all Mister Wayne.”</p><p>“Please, call me Bruce.”</p><p>“Bruce? That’s unique, the name of some illustrious ancestor I imagine?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, yes.”</p><p>“Don’t say that I like it. Names are very fascinating to me, and since you’ve done me the honor, I’ll do the same, you may call me Selina.”</p><p>“Selina, goddess of the moon.”</p><p>“My mother chose it, and there is something delightfully intriguing about the moon.”</p><p> “Quite pagan isn’t it?”</p><p>“My uncles think so. But everyone fears what they don’t understand.”</p><p>“Afraid of a name?” Bruce laughed but Selina met his laughter with grave seriousness.</p><p>“Why not? A name is the most powerful thing a person can possess, there is no limit to the impact of a name. It’s a badge of honor, loathing, pride, fear, or warning.”</p><p>“Should I be afraid?” Bruce smiled mischievously down at her and she tilted her chin up challengingly, her lips parted into a small smirk while her emerald eyes beckoned him with mystery.</p><p>“Aren’t we all?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 16: An Unsuspecting Visitor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 16: An Unsuspecting Visitor</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Sebastian Randle’s House, London England, January 6, 1844</em>
</p><p>The parlor was a hive of activity as the Randle girls, sprawled amongst the various horsehair settees and chairs, were busying themselves discussing the excitement of the previous night’s ball, while completely neglecting their needlework.</p><p>Selina sat removed from the group on the hard window seat, its cushions having been commandeered by Hannah who was sitting on the floor propped against a chair. As she sat, feigning interest in her embroidery hoop so the others would leave her in peace, her thoughts wandered to her imminent return to Queene’s Abbey, and on the night before.</p><p>“Who’s that?” Cried, Georgiana.</p><p>The four Randles crowded around the window to get a look at the stranger coming up the walk.</p><p>“No! It can’t be?” stuttered Maggie.</p><p>“Who? I can’t see?”</p><p>“Shut up Eliza! It’s the Duke of Gotham!” screeched Hannah.</p><p>“Bruce Wayne?” Eliza was in complete shock.</p><p>Just then he disappeared out of view and the group began to speculate loudly as to what this could mean.</p><p>“I didn’t dance with him, did you?”</p><p>“Not I.”</p><p>“Maybe he has business with Papa.”</p><p>“Maggie, didn’t you meet him last year at St. James? Maybe he’s here for you!”</p><p>As the excitement began to build, Selina continued to sit silently on the bench, absentmindedly rolling a sewing needle between her fingers.</p><p>The sound of running feet could be heard, then Aunt Julia burst into the room, panting from exertion. The cousins swarmed their mother, firing questions at her until the room rang with shrieking voices.</p><p>“QUIET!” Julia shouted above the noise.</p><p>Her daughters, stunned by their mother’s harsh tone, fell silent.</p><p>Julia’s eyes darted around the room.</p><p>“Out with-it Mother!” barked Maggie, “Who is he here for?”</p><p>“He is here to see <em>Lina</em>!” Julia answered.</p><p>Maggie’s jaw hung limp as the others stared in shock.</p><p>They watched, dumbstruck, as Selina sat aside the needle and stood. With her head held high and a casual smile on her face, as if she’d been expecting this, walked past the others' gaping stares and towards the door.</p><p>“Thank you, Julia.” She said sweetly, before leaving the room, closing the door firmly behind her.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Riverfoot Hall, Kent England, January 6, 1844</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Diana sat at her desk, composing a letter.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dear Bruce,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>      I am happy to report that my exploration of Mr. Shakespeare’s writings has proven quite enjoyable! I am currently reading one of his plays, The Taming of the Shrew. I haven’t made up my mind about the piece, yet I am afraid. I cannot decide if it the story of a cruel man abusing his wife for the amusement of other men, or a tale of a cunning woman who learns how to play her husband to her advantage and bests him at his own game? I would appreciate any thoughts you have to share on the matter…As for other aspects of life, they have proven less satisfactory, Ms. Spencer is still insufferable, I truly believe that woman thinks God put her on the earth just to preach the superiority of England over every other nation! HA! The Mongols would disagree! (Barbara told me about them when she visited last week, very fascinating.) But more than just Ms. Spencer’s tiring presence I am afraid that, despite my best efforts, Barda has not improved whatsoever and remains as rude and gruff as ever. So, I have decided to abandon my quest to befriend her, as she seems to hold no interest and I have grown rather use to her now and frankly don’t see the point in continuing further. In other news, I had my weekly visit to see Alfred yesterday, he has decided to teach me chess, I have played before and thought it would be an easy task, but he has been using an entirely different set of rules so I will have to be very diligent if I wish to best him at the game. Other than that, things remain the same as always…When do you return from London? I hope soon, things aren’t the same when you are away. I miss you very much Bruce, please come back.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                                                   Love always,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                                                                       Diana</em>
</p><p>
  <em>   Postscript,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I nearly forgot! When you do return, I have a special introduction to make for you, my new HORSE! Isn’t it wonderful! Aunt Martha gave her to me for Christmas, they were selling off all the other horses, except Allura and the carriage team, but Aunt Martha said I could have my pick before they did. She is the most magnificent thing ever! A black beauty, Clark says she is an Irish breed, but I forget which. No name yet, but Kara has several ideas.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Putting her pen down Diana drew her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, and curled up on the chair, watching the afternoon sun glisten across the snow through the windowpane.</p><p>A bird landed in the snow and began to hop to and fro.</p><p>Diana smiled.</p><p>
  <em>I will be happy when spring arrives, I’m tired of being cold all the time.</em>
</p><p>She continued to watch the little bird, allowing her mind to dream of the secret desire of her heart. Escaping into her thoughts she continued building on the fantasy she had carefully crafted since the moment she had seen Bruce walk back into her world on Christmas Eve…It was the fantasy of a young heart, full of love and ignorant of disappointments.</p><p><em>We shall have a spring wedding. </em>She thought with certainty and laughed to herself as she imagined how it would all come to be.</p><p>
  <em>When Bruce comes back then he will ask, oh, I wonder if he will need to ask Clark or Aunt Martha for permission? I suppose it should be Martha, I do live with her after all. But perhaps that is why he is delaying in London...he is asking Clark how best to go about it. </em>
</p><p>Sighing contentedly, she leaned back in her chair and watched as the bird flew out of her sights.</p><p>“Mrs. Bruce Wayne.” She said aloud, testing the name.</p><p>Her face broke into an uncontainable smile and she covered her mouth to keep from giggling with delight at the sound of it.</p><p>
  <em>We shall marry in May.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 17: A Matter of Perspective</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 17: A Matter of Perspective</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Werth Palace, Kent England February 10, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Oliver &amp; Dinah</em>
</p><p>“He’s <em>still</em> in London!”</p><p>“Appears so.” Oliver was grinning from ear to ear at his wife’s astonished expression.</p><p>“But, Bruce hates London!” she cried, and Oliver flinched at the elevating pitch of her voice.</p><p>“Exactly!” by now Oliver’s cheeks hurt from smiling and trying not to laugh. “Now, why would dear old Brucie be extending his stay in Old London Town for the past month <em>hmmm</em>? And at the height of the season no less!”</p><p>Dinah’s dark eyebrows flew down as she glared suspiciously at her husband. He took a moment to note the unnerving contrast between her accusing face and sunny blonde hair.</p><p>“What do you know?” she demanded.</p><p>Oliver put a hand to his chest in mock hurt.</p><p>“Nothing, my love! But, Harvey Dent on the other hand—”</p><p>“Out with it!” ordered Dinah.</p><p>Oliver shook with laughter, “I never thought I’d see the day!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Wayne Castle, Kent England February 10, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Alfred Pennyworth</em>
</p><p>Alfred adjusted the sheet covering the ancient suit of armor before finishing his sweeping of the long gallery. Sometimes it made him sad to think of this lovely old house all shut up and silent. No laughter had rung through these halls nor music played in many years.</p><p>He smiled as he thought back to all those years ago, it had been here in this very hall that they’d met for the first time. He’d been a young boy then, barely thirteen, but he could still feel the pride that had filled him at being asked to serve as a footman for the night. It would never have been allowed had there not been a shortage of staff for the occasion.</p><p>Alfred chuckled as he swept the dust from atop the base molding.</p><p>Maybe <em>met</em> was the wrong word for it, after all, he hadn’t said two words during the exchange, his nerves wouldn’t have allowed it.</p><p>The dark, haunting rooms transformed in his mind's eye to the palace they had once been…so long ago, and he dreamed of the people that had been.</p><p>Candles burned in gold candelabras while footmen clad in green and silver livery lined the walls, perfectly groomed and invisible to the aristocratic eye. Mirrors and gilt that had been polished for days beforehand shone and reflect the light onto the glittering jewels of the guests as they glided through the house like swans. Music played from the Ball and bathed the whole assembly in it’s energizing and romantic tones. The marble floor was so clean one could see their reflection and it gleamed nearly as brightly as the guests. But nothing could compare to her.</p><p>He had watched them all, the Duke’s, Princes, Ladies, Countesses, and Royalty as they filed past, oblivious to his existence as he stood in awe of it all…how easily impressed he had been in those days.</p><p>A fan dropped at his feet, it had been blue…he’d picked it up and straightened to find himself looking into the face of a smiling girl with eyes that shimmered like jewels. She’d taken back the fan, gave him a little salute with it, then with the smile never leaving her face she’d mouthed <em>Thank You</em>, before disappearing into the crowd again.</p><p>A sense of melancholy settled as the image faded and he returned to the dark silence of the old castle. He sniffed and picked up his broom and bucket of supplies, moving on.</p><p>He did allow himself just a moment as he paused at the entrance of the music room.</p><p>He thought of the golden bracelet he’d given to young Diana and smiled that he’d seen her wearing it at her last visit.</p><p>
  <em>She’d have wanted her to have it.</em>
</p><p>Alfred smiled with certainty at the correctness of his actions and pushed open the door.</p><p>It creaked at being disturbed and the old butler took a moment to produce a small vile from his pocket and grease the hinges so they wouldn’t utter such an appalling sound again.</p><p>Satisfied with the now silent door he returned the vile and sat down his supplies.</p><p>He didn’t need to bother with dusting as everything in this room, as with most of the others, was permanently covered with sheets. But just because the house was not in use didn’t mean he was going to allow it to fall into neglect.</p><p>His first order of business was to open a window to air the space, next sweep and mop the floors, then clear the fireplace, polish all the metal, check the upholstery for fraying, check the mouse traps, be sure none of the book bindings needed to be glued, beat the carpets, and finally check the piano to see if it needed to be tuned.</p><p>It was a lot of work keeping up the house and grounds. In the old days, when Bruce’s grandparents were in residence, there had been nearly two hundred servants in the house and another fifty on the grounds. Alfred did have two local girls come in on Thursdays to give a hand, but it was not enough to keep the whole place running, so sadly all but a few rooms had been closed up for the past sixteen years. Six to be exact, the master’s suite, front parlor, kitchen, dining room, butler’s room, library, and a small guest room on the second floor. This is of course not including Alfred’s own room, the water closet, and various servants’ accommodations used on and off over the years.</p><p>In the first year after the late Duke and Duchess’s murder, Bruce had moved into the castle and shut down the London house. What few staff that made the move with them had remained the year, but upon discovering that a few had taken to pilfering items from the house that they thought would not be missed Alfred had dismissed the lot and taken over the care of the house on his own. He had hired a few new servants but even then, it hadn’t been enough to open the whole house. After Master Bruce left for university, he couldn’t see the justification and had once again become the old manor’s only caregiver.</p><p>Having finished his work, he left the music room, closing the door <em>silently</em> behind.</p><p>A clock chimed, Alfred stopped walking and checked his pocket watch to verify the time.</p><p>
  <em>That’s enough cleaning for today, best check the master’s suite.</em>
</p><p>Returning his cleaning articles to their proper place he climbed the winding staircase to the second floor and made his way down the northern corridor to the large double oak doors of Master Bruce’s rooms.</p><p>The room was outfitted with gray and dark blue velvet, oak wood furnishings, a marble fireplace, and oak paneling along the walls in the Tudor style. In the center was a four-poster wood bed with curtains and intricate carvings on the posts and boards depicting the story of Saint George. Supposedly the bed was once slept in by Mary Queen of Scots during her imprisonment and had been a family heirloom ever since its accusation via an elderly and well-connected aunt.</p><p>Crossing the room Alfred opened the drapes and cracked the window to the left of the bed half an inch, just as Master Bruce liked it. He then built a fire and placed a pair of worn but mended blue slippers on the hearth to warm. He had tried to get Master Bruce to allow him to purchase him a new pair, but he had insisted this pair was the perfect level of worn in and could not be replicated. Next, he turned down the bed, laid out a nightshirt, dressing gown, and filled the pitcher with water. Lastly, he sat a book of prayers on the bedside table, just in case, and took his leave.</p><p>He had no way of knowing if Bruce would return that evening, he rarely knew his comings or goings, but he always made sure that his room was ready for him and that dinner was ready promptly at seven o’clock. No matter where he was nor how long he was gone Master Bruce must always know that he was welcome when he returned home.</p><p>As he made his way to the front parlor he wondered if Bruce ever realized that it worried him when he didn’t know where he was for such long periods of time.</p><p>Alfred despised nothing more in this life than self-pity, jealousy, and uselessness. To him, they were the three greatest sins of humanity as he viewed these as the sources of all selfish and cruel behaviors that afflict mankind. But if he gave himself a moment’s introspective, he would have to admit that, though he knew Master Bruce would never knowingly neglect his long-serving guardian…he was lonely.</p><p>That was why he never raised an objection to his charges galivanting and wandering nature. He didn’t want him to become an isolated creature, as was his tendency, trapped in a crumbling castle with an old butler out of obligation.</p><p>Alfred managed with ease to keep himself busy, but solitude tends to make one think.</p><p>He sometimes wondered if he’d be wrong in not making it a priority that Bruce inform him of his comings and goings. He’d wanted to foster a sense of independence and purpose in the young boy, but perhaps if he was being honest Bruce’s lack of consideration was a product of Alfred’s own negligence and uncertainty in raising a child so far above his own station.</p><p>He had tried always to be warm and correct in his teachings but he had been so concerned at not allowing Bruce to forget his own parents and their example that perhaps he hadn’t done enough to teach the boy how to show he cared…which Alfred knew with absolute certainty he did, but would others?</p><p>
  <em>What’s done is done, there is no returning to the past.</em>
</p><p>Putting what could not be changed out of his mind he focused on something more pleasant.</p><p>He once more thought of Diana, she had eased the burden of his life of waiting and brought a breath of fresh air in the form of her company. She was a dear creature, though admittedly still had much to learn.</p><p>Entering the parlor Alfred smiled and moved an armchair to sit by the large muntin window.</p><p>Retrieving a basket from a cupboard beneath a bookcase he returned to the window, taking a seat in the chair.</p><p>The late afternoon light hit the diamond glass plates of the window at the perfect angle to illuminate the chair for him to do intricate work without the need for his spectacles. It also cast a lovely diamond pattern across the rug that he found cozy.</p><p>His previous wonderings diminished further as he returned to an often envisioned and dearly held wish of his.</p><p>
  <em>One day Master Bruce will marry and then this dreary castle will be full of life and fun once more. He will open all the old rooms; their children will play on the grounds and he will go out in society. I merely need to be patient and maintain the place until he is ready.</em>
</p><p>Reaching into the basket he removed a wooden box. Opening it he removed a spool of white thread, a shiny silver thimble, and a blade-thin sewing needle.</p><p>Keeping a steady hand, the butler deftly threaded the needle, reached into his sewing basket, and retrieved a nearly completed dress of blue calico printed with tiny red flowers. Sitting back, he worked until the sun sank behind the trees, returning his eyes ever so often to look down the winding road.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Riverfoot Hall, Kent England February 11, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Diana</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“It is with great sadness that we gather here today to acknowledge the passing of our dear friend, Lady Hennie Clucksburg.” </p><p>The small group of mourners, Lucy and Barbara, stood solemnly round as the pole bearer, Kara, carried the coffin, an old hatbox, and placed it on the tree stump.</p><p>Diana stood-in as officiant, Desmond had refused the part and nodded her head approvingly at the congregation’s grief before returning to her open book for notes. She was going to use a Bible but Vanessa and taken it away and called the whole affair a pagan sacrilege when she’d learned the girls were holding the funeral for a chicken. Well, actually just its' head as the rest was being prepared for supper. So instead Diana was holding a volume of Milton’s Paradise Lost, as it was the biggest book she could find, and she felt the added weight would add gravitas.</p><p>Diana opened her mouth to begin the service but was cut off by the sound of metal clashing with rock and sent a quick glare over her shoulder to Barda, who was acting as gravedigger, and busy trying to dig a hole in the frozen ground.</p><p>“Madame, please! A little respect?” Diana implored.</p><p>Barda gave the girls a disgruntled eye-roll before dropping the shovel with a thud and crossing her arms against the cold, waiting for her cue.</p><p>Nodding Diana returned to her role.</p><p>“Lady Hennie was an inspiration to all who knew her and a model of virtue in the chicken yard. Many a morning did she wake us all with her melodious cackling, always the first to rise and the last to sleep…though there is no record that she ever shut her trap long enough.”</p><p>A snicker came from Barbara and Lucy, but Diana silenced them with a serious stare.</p><p>“Ladies please! Don’t let your grief interrupt the service.”</p><p>“A thousand apologizes your honor.” Said Barbara as she gave an exaggerated curtsy and Lucy bit the inside of her cheek.</p><p>“Now, I believe Lady Caroline would like to say a few words.”</p><p>Diana stepped to the side as Kara came to stand on the rock “pulpit”, dramatically weeping into a handkerchief.</p><p>“It was a great shock to all who knew Lady Clucksburg to learn of her violent death in the field of battle—”</p><p>“What battle?” interrupted Barbara.</p><p>“She got her head cut off with an ax that sounds like a battle to me!” defended Kara.</p><p>“Technically it was more like an execution.” Added Lucy in a whispered tone.</p><p>“I agree it was much more an execution!” declared Barbara.</p><p>“Oh, shut it Barbara I’m giving the eulogy and I say it was battle!”</p><p>“Ladies order!” shouted Diana, slamming a hand against her book.</p><p>“Fine”, muttered Kara before continuing.</p><p>“It was a great shock to learn of her violent death of <em>execution</em> AFTER being captured on the field of battle and then being sentenced to death by beheading on the false accusation of being a poultry impersonator and a spy for the dairy!”</p><p>“WHAT!” Barbara shrieked.</p><p>“You said execution you never said for what!” Kara stuck her tongue out at the two older girls and marched back like a soldier to her post by the coffin.</p><p>“Thank you, Lady Caroline, for those moving words,” Diana said taking her place back on the rock.</p><p>“We are sure that our beloved Hennie will be missed by none more than her distraught widower Colonel Caesar Fatbeak, though let it be noted by the congregation that he has been comforted in his grief by the hens Rosie, Jemimah, and Shrimpy. Now, as Lady Hennie had no professed religion of preference it has been decided by her loved ones, Lady Caroline, Miss Lois, and Miss Gordon, to send her off in the manner of the old gods. So, without delay would you all please place your offerings inside the coffin?”</p><p>Kara removed the lid, retrieved a handful of feed from her coat pocket, and dropped it in. Next Barbara came forward with a piece of paper with some scribbled Egyptian hieroglyphs that she was adamant were from the book of the dead. Then Diana replaced the box lid as Lucy had sworn, she couldn’t stand to see the severed head in the hatbox. Finally, Lucy came forward, looking very elegant in her makeshift mourning veil made from an old shawl, she placed a ribbon bow on top of the coffin and returned to stand by Barbara.</p><p>“Very good, may Hades, lord of the dead, be accepting of these tokens and may Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, grant clemency on the departed and remember that chickens deserve Elysium too. And now Lady Hennie Clucksburg of the hen yard, we bid you goodbye.”</p><p>Diana nodded to Barda who retrieved her shovel and went back to digging the grave.</p><p>“At least there will be chicken for supper, so her death won’t have been in vain,” Lucy said with a consoling pat to Kara who groaned and began to stomp back to the house.</p><p>“Don’t you know anything, Lucy? There is no <em>bright side</em> at a funeral! You have to wait until mourning is over to be happy again.”</p><p>“When does mourning end then?” asked Barbara.</p><p>“Soon as supper is ready.” Answered Diana.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Riverfoot Hall, Kent England February 11, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Martha Kent</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Martha stood at the top of the staircase, taking several shallow breaths, trying to regain herself. When did she start to tire so easily?</p><p>
  <em>How do those girls run up and down all day long? </em>
</p><p>Martha smiled, she loved having the house full of rambunctious children.</p><p>Entering her bedroom, she crossed the floor and looked out the window at the children playing in the snowy landscape below. She laughed with delight at the sight of Diana pulling Barbara, Kara, and Lucy on the sled only for Diana to fall face down in the snow and the sled to tip over.</p><p>Turning away from the window she went to the chest at the foot of her bed. From it she removed a paper box neatly stuffed with tissue paper. Gently removing the various sheets of delicate paper, she unpacked the box, inside was first a silver rattle, a lace baby’s cap, a pair of small knitted yellow boots, and lastly a crème christening gown edged with lace and blue ribbons.</p><p>Smiling she began to inspect the articles. The right sleeve was pulling at the seam and one of the boots was missing its ribbon decorations. No matter, she could easily mend it.</p><p>Standing she picked up the items and went to her settee in front of the fireplace. Placing the rattle on the mantle she sat down with her sewing needle and began to work.</p><p>Glancing up to the portrait above the mantle she smiled.</p><p>“What do you think mother, will it do for your first great-grandchild?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Sebastian Randle’s House, London England February 11, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Selina</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I will not have this family disgraced again; do you hear me? Never again!”</p><p>Selina winced as the sound of Francis’s raised voice stung the air and she reflexively pulled her head away from the door before pressing her ear against it once again.</p><p>“Francis, you’re overreacting, he’s got a title, wealth, and position, it’s nothing like Ma—”</p><p>“Don’t you dare finish that statement Sebastian.” Francis’s normally tempered and even voice had taken on a gravely foreboding tone that she had only heard once before and made her skin crawl.</p><p>“Julia was right to write to me; I’m taking Lina back to Queene’s Abbey first thing in the morning. I will not have her shaming our family by flirting like a harlot.”</p><p>
  <em>Of course, it was Julia! She should mind her own damn business!  </em>
</p><p>Selina was furious, Francis was going to drag her back and probably lock her in a room till she died!</p><p>
  <em>I won’t let you lock me away again you bitter hypocrite!</em>
</p><p>Quietly she snuck away from the study door and made her way to the upstairs parlor.</p><p>Once safely inside she shut the door and rushed to the window seat. Kneeling in front of it she folded back the rug to reveal a shiny silver half-crown. Eliza had dropped her purse last week and coins rolled across the floor, while everyone was busy collecting them, she had slipped this one under the carpet with her shoe. She’d waited several days but no one seemed to notice the missing money, money that she knew she might need much more than Eliza.</p><p>Greedily she picked it up. The sound of footsteps drew dear and she scrambled to her feet just as the parlor door opened and Aunt Julia glared at her from the doorway.</p><p>Selina resisted the urge to thrust her hands behind her back, knowing that would appear more suspicious, and instead balled both hands into tight fists until her nails dug painfully into her palms.</p><p>“What are you doing in here? Your Uncle wants you to wait in your room until he is ready to see you.”</p><p>Julia took her by the arm and led her to her room, Selina made no objection and silently did as she was told.</p><p>She entered her room only to hear the door close behind her and the key turn in the lock.</p><p>
  <em>Decided not to wait to lock me then.</em>
</p><p>She continued to stand motionless till the sound of Julia’s footsteps disappeared.</p><p>Once silence fell, she eagerly unclenched her hands and looked at the coin. Giving it a kiss for luck she tucked it into a secret pocket she’d sewn at the waist of her dress and ran to the window and threw it open.</p><p>Leaning out she judged the distance from the window to the ground, three stories, and to the top of the building, one floor. Next, she checked the street below, thankfully abandoned, the closest streetlamp was near the main entrance on the opposite end of the house and it was already completely dark. Nodding she made up her mind and stepped back into her room.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, she braced her arms on the sides of the window frame, placed a foot on the ledge and climbed out. Once on the ledge she stood on one foot and pivoted on the ball, so she was facing the house’s façade. Then, making sure the coin was safe in her pocket she grabbed onto the brick facing and began to climb.</p><p>Elsie Pierson was a maid in the Randle house and had just come up to put away her morning uniform before going to help with dinner. What Elsie did not expect was to see the master’s niece tapping on her fourth story window!</p><p>Panicking Elsie opened the window and pulled the young woman in.</p><p>“W-W-What are you doing Miss!” Elsie screeched as she felt her blood pressure rising.</p><p>“<em>Elsie, stop yelling</em>!” Selina hissed and the maid tried to calm down.</p><p>Once the maid started breathing normally Selina smiled sweetly at the girl and reached into her pocket.</p><p>“Now Elsie, I need you to write me a letter, and if you deliver it, I’ll give you this.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Kent Townhouse, London England February 11, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Lois &amp; Clark</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Lois shifted uncomfortably, damn her stays were tight! Another wave of nausea hit, and she reflexively covered her mouth.</p><p>“Are you alright?” In seconds Clark was kneeling beside where she lounged on the sofa.</p><p>“Yes, now stop asking!” Lois barked before immediately feeling guilty at the sight of his crestfallen face. She didn’t mean to yell but why must he be so irritating? If he didn’t relax soon, he’d smother her.</p><p>Trying to silence her conscience she motioned for him to hand her the cufflinks he’d been struggling with.</p><p>He smiled again while looking at her fondly and Lois avoided his gaze by focusing on the cufflinks.</p><p><em>He should really have a valet to do thi</em>s. She thought, but Clark had dismissed his man’s servant several months ago and Lois was loath to bring it up.</p><p>She knew he’d done it to save money but finances were not something they spoke about. She knew he felt ashamed over their financial state but discussing it with him always made her feel like an intruder, and besides, he was always quick to assure her that everything was fine and that he’d manage that she eventually just let the subject drop.</p><p>“There, now go put on the jacket so I can see how it looks.”</p><p>Like an obedient puppy, the burly man leaped to his feet and scurried to do her bidding. Lois smiled softly; he could be very endearing.</p><p>Having put on the jacket Clark modeled it for his wife who nodded her approval.</p><p>“Will it do? Apparently, the Ambassador of Russia is quite an extravagant fellow.”</p><p>“It’s perfect, no one wants to notice the reporter, it will make them less natural and affect the outcome of your article. If you don’t dress to draw attention, then you can move among the guests without causing a stir.”</p><p>“It’s only a society piece, Lois. I don’t see how my integrity can be compromised when reporting on the flowers or the color of some lady’s dress.”</p><p>
  <em>Which you never notice correctly anyway if I’m not there to remind you.</em>
</p><p>“Besides, I doubt I’ll have trouble disappearing with Bruce coming.”</p><p>“Bruce is going! <em>Ugh</em> Everyone is going to be there!”</p><p>Clark smiled sympathetically and placed a hand over his wife’s.</p><p>“I’ll be home as soon as I can, I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to.”</p><p>Lois angrily pulled her hand away and smacked his.</p><p>“It isn’t that I don’t want you to go, farm boy, <em>I want to go</em>!”</p><p>Clark’s face grew serious and Lois felt her face grow red with rage just waiting to see if he would dare tell her what to do.</p><p>“My love, the doctor said too much excitement wasn’t good for you or the baby.”</p><p>“I know what he said Clark, I was there! Don’t you dare treat me like a child who needs things explained!”</p><p>Clark laughed, “Only a fool would try to tell you what to do.”</p><p>“Well Clark, are you a fool?”</p><p>Clark sighed. “Not today, if you wish to go, heaven knows I can’t stop you.”</p><p>“YES!” Lois jumped up from the sofa and threw her arms around her husband’s neck in joy, only to race from the room a moment later empty the contents of her stomach in a vase in the hall. Maybe she would stay home this time.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Brown’s Hotel, Mayfair London February 12, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Bruce Wayne</em>
</p><p>Bruce sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed, loosening his cravat with his left hand.</p><p>He’d been out all night, the Ball had gone on till the wee hours and he’d been there for every second, waiting for her to arrive. She never did.</p><p>He’d tried to talk to her cousins to find out what had happened, but the girls had acted as if they hadn’t heard a word he’d said until the eldest, Margaret was it? Had told him point-blank.</p><p>“<em>Lina</em> is not accustomed to society and I doubt will be refraining from doing so in the future.”</p><p>He had left them at that, asking them to please give her his regards.</p><p>Bruce had stayed at the party with the blind hope that Margaret Randle had been lying, it appeared she was not.</p><p>Where was she? What had changed?</p><p>He knew he shouldn’t be so invested in the private life of a woman whom he barely knew, but he couldn’t help it. Being with her was intoxicating. She had the ability to make everything amusing and made him laugh with her clever remarks and biting humor. It was like a dream, a dream where everything was fun and free. All pain and concern completely forgot as she drew him into escaping in the splendid joy of the moment. She was utterly fascinating, ravishingly confidant, and mystified him at every turn with just a tilt of those sphinxlike eyes.</p><p>Groaning he flopped back on the bed.</p><p>He couldn’t get her off his mind, he’d stalked every party and gathering in London for the past month longing for their next meeting, and each occasion had been more distracting than the last. He was like a new person, there was no past with Selina, he could forget everything else, it was all right before him as simple as asking her to dance and as intriguing as a game of cat and mouse.</p><p>
  <em>But where did you go?</em>
</p><p>A knock sounded at the door, he answered it.</p><p>“Beg your pardon your grace but this arrived for you.”</p><p>The hotel employee held out a small folded paper, Bruce took it and gave the man a tip for his troubles before closing the door once again.</p><p>There was no seal nor address, he opened it, and smiled.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Uncle Francis showed up, am going back to Queene’s Abbey in the morning. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>   Have you ever been to East Sussex?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                                                                 —Selina </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Riverfoot Hall, Kent England February 13, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Barda</em>
</p><p>“Who delivered it?”</p><p>“Just the postman, who would send <em>her</em> anything?”</p><p>“I haven’t the foggiest, maybe it’s a mistake, after all, there isn’t a surname.”</p><p>“For all we know she ain’t got one.”</p><p>“I think we should open it, just to be sure there’s nothing suspicious going on here.”</p><p>“What and get yourself killed? Lord knows what the giantess would do to ya if she knew.”</p><p>
  <em>BANG! </em>
</p><p>The kitchen door hit the wall with such force the shelves shook, and Vanessa, Desmond, and Cook all felt their ghosts jump out of their skins as Big Barda herself towered in the doorway.</p><p>“Sweet Saint Peter!” cried cook, fanning herself with her apron.</p><p>“Mrs. Kent sent me; she wants tea.”</p><p>“<em>The Dowager Countess</em>, you will refer to her as the Dowager Countess Barda.” Admonished Desmond.</p><p>The maid shrugged, uncaring of the butler’s words.</p><p>“Tea, in the parlor.”</p><p>Sighing Desmond picked up the tray and left, keeping a wide perimeter between himself and the stoic ogre as he left.</p><p>Once he had gone Barda turned to go.</p><p>“Wait! B-Barda, this came for you.” Vanessa held out the package.</p><p>Nothing in Barda’s face changed to show any interest in the package. She stared at it unmoving for what felt to Vanessa at least ten minutes before taking the parcel, nodding to Vanessa, and leaving the room with long pounding strides.</p><p>Cook stopped holding her breath and began to huff in relief.</p><p>“She didn’t even say thank you.” Vanessa pouted.</p><p>“Don’t hold yer breath waitn for one child. That’s one foreigner who I’ll gladly send back to wherever she came from with my own dear pounds and shillings!”</p><p>Vanessa ignored the older woman and headed upstairs to serve Ms. Spencer her tea in her room. However, later that afternoon she couldn’t help but notice that Barda wasn’t wearing her normal brown dress but instead had changed it out for one Vanessa had never seen before, a blue calico with red flowers and a neatly starched lace collar.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 18: Another Year Older</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 18: Another Year Older</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Queene’s Abbey East Sussex England March 14, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Selina </em>
</p><p>Another year older, 24, I’m practically dead!</p><p>Selina scrutinized her reflection in the mirror, scanning for nonexistent wrinkles and gray hairs, but her youthful appearance gazed back at her reassuringly.</p><p>An impatient meow directed her attention away from the glass to the cat that rubbed against Selina’s nightdress, demanding her mistress’s attention.</p><p>“Isis, my precious, come here.”</p><p>Selina picked up the black cat and carried her to the Tudor bed. Sitting she began to stroke the cat’s silky fur, finding comfort in the soothing rhythm of Isis’s purrs.</p><p>The candle burned low and its dim light was overtaken by the sliver of moonlight that crept through the leaded window pane. Casting a warm glow on the quiet companionship of the pair curled up on that ancient bed, bonded together in the constancy of one another’s presence in that alienating space.</p><p>Isis’s breathing slowed as she fell into a peaceful slumber in her mistress’s arms. Selina laid back against the pillow and drew the cat to her chest, hugging her close. Staring at the bed’s bare oak ceiling with its multitude of cracks and grooves that Selina had memorized many years ago.</p><p>It was her birthday today.</p><p>There hadn’t been a party of course, “Frivolous displays of vanity,” as Uncle Francis called them. Fascinating how he didn’t express that same view when his son Horatio had his birthday.</p><p>She had to give Francis some credit though, it was obviously Hortense who insisted on indulging her son’s every whim, Francis had simply washed his hands of the whole thing and given up on training his son’s character to fit the high Randle standards. Shame he hadn’t extended that same neglect to her. She sometimes wondered if Francis even liked his son. It was impossible to tell as the man adopted the same formal austerity with everyone he met.</p><p><em>Positively frigid and unfeeling</em>.</p><p>She wondered what it would be like to have a birthday party, a whole event where you were the center of attention and affection.</p><p>“<em>One day</em>,” she whispered in Isis’s sleeping ear.</p><p>“One day I will be the center of someone’s world. He will love me to distraction, and I will never be alone again. Then you and I will leave Queene’s Abbey forever Isis, we will be free!”</p><p>She smiled in joy as she dreamed, unknowingly squeezing the cat in her arms until Isis gave her a disgruntled meow.</p><p>“And you know something Isis, I have a secret that I can only share with you. I think I’ve found him, the one to take us away. If everything goes according to plan he will propose before April’s end. We have to play our cards right Isis; this is our one chance. But if it works, oh please God let it work, then we will never be ignored again. I can’t tell any of this to Uncle Francis you understand. I admit I am afraid of him, though, I think the thing that unnerves me most are his sharp eyebrows. But it doesn’t matter, because someday, someday soon…”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Riverfoot Hall Kent England March 22, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Diana </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Dear Diana,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Many Happy Returns of the Day, on Your Sixteenth Birthday! I am sorry I haven’t written for a while, so allow me to first answer the inquiries from your previous letter. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I am pleased that you are enjoying your study of Shakespeare. As for my opinion on The Taming of The Shrew, I must confess, I am more inclined to Shakespeare’s sonnets than his plays, but if memory serves, I was not an admirer of that piece. I found the humor a bit rough and too cruel to truly warrant amusement. Also, the character of Bianca struck me as false, putting on a façade of tenderness to gain admiration rather than an honest disposition. I suppose then I am more inclined towards Katherine, for though sharp-tongued, she is the more honest character. As for Petruchio however, he is a proud and arrogant fool who cannot admit his mistakes nor forgive.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To the matter of the infamous Ms. Spencer, I would remind you that patience is a virtue that must be cultivated. But I must also agree with Miss Gordon, the Mongols certainly have a list of conquests that we British have not managed to match, yet. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It is good that the two of you have struck up a friendship. Her father is an honorable man and I am sure he is pleased that his daughter has acquaintances beyond Gotham’s sphere. You might suggest to your Aunt that Barbara also join in your studies, I am sure the Commissioner would be grateful and contribute to Ms. Spencer’s salary to alleviate any burden.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It is disappointing that you’ve abandoned befriending Barda. However, given your observations of her reactions, it may be for the best. It is never advisable to invade another’s privacy for your own curiosity; others will reveal what they wish you to know there is no need to pry.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Best of luck in besting Alfred at chess, few braver than you have tried. If you do accomplish such a herculean task, I will personally have the set covered in gold as a gift!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I have left London and am currently visiting East Sussex. I do not yet know when I shall return to Kent, though it sounds as if you have more than enough to occupy your time and shall hardly notice my absence at all. But don’t worry Princess, as I said before, I will always come back.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I would be honored to meet your horse and I am quite sure Kara will provide a variety of unique names for inspiration.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Now, I will leave you some food for thought before I sign this letter. To aid your study of poetry, a verse from the poet William Wordsworth,</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The child is father of the man;<br/>And I could wish my days to be<br/>Bound each to each by natural piety.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,<br/>The earth, and every common sight.<br/>To me did seem<br/>Apparell'd in celestial light,<br/>The glory and the freshness of a dream.<br/>It is not now as it has been of yore: —<br/>Turn wheresoe'er I may,<br/>By night or day.<br/>The things which I have seen I now can see no more!</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Now Princess, see if you can find the rest and send me the next stanza. I await your reply.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>                         Sincerely yours,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                                              Bruce W.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Diana reread the letter for the millionth time. Each time her young heart swelled with glee! It was her birthday and Bruce had sent her a letter. No other moment in her whole life could be so perfect.</p><p>
  <em>I am sixteen today, a grown woman.</em>
</p><p>Laying longways across her bed she kicked her long legs periodically into the air to keep her feet from skimming the floor, as she rested her chin on the bed’s edge and held the letter over empty space between the bed’s edge and floor.</p><p>The bright early spring sunshine streaming through the window illuminated the black ink letters, making the handwriting shimmer before her eyes, tempting her to memorize every curve.</p><p>A loud knock rapped on the door, interrupting her concentration as she traced the signature with her finger.</p><p>Leaping from the bed, Diana frantically creased the letter into a folded envelope-<em>ish</em> shape and shoved it into the open jewelry box that sat on the floor.</p><p>Slamming the lid closed, the sound of the doorknob clicking shot through her ears.</p><p>Panicking, Diana tossed a stray shawl over the chest and practically threw it under the bed before springing to her feet just in time to meet Kara’s overly curious face attempting to peer over the bed.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Kara asked innocently, straining her short frame to its highest in order to poke into her cousin’s space.</p><p>“Kara, how many times have I told you? Don’t come into my room without knocking.”</p><p>Diana scooted up to the bed so that her knees could feel its edge through her skirts.</p><p>Kara shrugged and began to walk around the room, picking up a decorative vase, looking at its simple pattern.</p><p>“I knocked.”</p><p>Kara returned the vase, looking elsewhere for entertainment.</p><p>“You are supposed to wait for me to let you in, knocking is not a right of entry!”</p><p>Kara giggled, sitting on Diana’s chaise, and lounging like a bored queen.</p><p>“Why are you laughing?” Diana demanded.</p><p>“<em>Why are you laughing!</em>” Kara echoed, mimicking Diana’s accent, something she was doing with increasing frequency every time Diana forgot herself and allowed her true voice to slip out.</p><p>A shame fueled heat rose through her body, burning her face, blurring her vision, scorching her ears. Her jaw clenched and hands shook as her heart ached and pounded against her breast.</p><p>Kara giggled again at the never-failing fun of this imitating game.</p><p>“<em>Out</em>.” Diana hissed.</p><p>Kara sat straight up on the chaise, squaring her small shoulders.</p><p>“No, you promised to take me to the pond yesterday, and we still haven’t gone!” The nine-year-old crossed her arms.</p><p>“Out!” Diana boomed.</p><p>Grabbing the little girl under the arm she lifted her off the chaise, dropped her on the ground, and marched her gruffly towards the door. Feeling a stinging retribution as she dug her nails through the cotton sleeve into the vicious child’s arm.</p><p>“OW! Hey, okay, OKAY! Fine, I’m sorry, Di let me go!” Kara barked as she clawed at her arm, trying in vain to free herself from the iron strength of the older girl’s grip.</p><p>“Out, out, OUT!”</p><p> Diana threw the scrappy blonde into the hall and slammed the door on her heels.</p><p>Once on her feet, Kara kicked the door furiously from the other side.</p><p>“No fair let me in! You can’t throw me around, come out here and fight fair!”</p><p>Diana leaned against the door, making a human barricade.</p><p>Kara continued to beat the door untiringly, yelling her righteous fury through the keyhole.</p><p>“You’ve been hiding in there all week! Why can’t I come in?”</p><p>“Because you can’t!” Diana thundered back.</p><p>“That’s not a reason!”</p><p>“I don’t need a reason it’s my room!” At this point, Diana was no longer yelling in English, though she hadn’t noticed, which only added to Kara’s sense of exclusion.</p><p>“<em>UGH!!!!</em>” Kara’s sonic scream pierced through the wood. Diana covered her ears.</p><p>“Use your normal voice!” Kara’s own voice was now so high-pitched that no doubt Mrs. Lane’s pug was covering his ears a whole mile away.</p><p>Diana punched the door with all her might! The corresponding <em>thud</em> and <em>yelp</em> signaled that the blow had met its ear pressed target.</p><p>Smiling bitterly at the faint crack now tarnishing the door’s once perfect seeming veneer she shook her hand violently, a surge of elation pumping through her with each throbbing protest from her abused extremity.</p><p>“Go Away, Kara!” Came the reply in very slow and deliberate English.</p><p>“You promised! You can’t break a promise!”</p><p>The wood rattled as it was attacked by a flurry of swift kicks and hits from tiny feet and fists.</p><p>Diana braced herself against the door which groaned under this double assault.</p><p>Without warning the barrage ceased.</p><p>Diana pressed her ear to the lock to hear what had happened.</p><p>“HEY! Put me down, Put me down right now! <em>Ugh</em>, are you listening you giant? Let me go! This isn’t fair, it was her fight too! Why am I always the one who gets in trouble?”</p><p>Kara’s protest grew quickly fainter.</p><p>Diana cracked the door and peeked down the hallway. She just managed to glimpse the colossal form of Big Barda carrying Kara under one arm like a sack of feed down the stairs. Despite the child’s kicking and bellowing, the maid seemed as cool and calm as if she were toting a pillow, completely unmoved by the squirming parcel’s outcries.</p><p>Suddenly terrified of her fate she shut the door and stood back, staring at it with wide eyes, waiting.</p><p>She would have happily waited longer, but it seemed that mere seconds had passed before the striding footsteps ricocheted through the walls, drawing nearer.</p><p>The door swung open without ceremony, halting with a jolt.</p><p>Diana jumped and gasped in fright as the dark-brown eyes bore into her, stripping away all sense of certainty and justification.</p><p>The imposing guard just stood in the doorframe, her stern face unreadable as marble. The minutes dragged and she was feeling increasingly vulnerable as Barda glared down on her.</p><p>Diana shifted her weight from foot to foot, why did it feel like a weight was pressing down on her shoulders?</p><p>She couldn’t take it any longer!</p><p>“I—”</p><p>“You’re Aunt is resting, she is tired.”</p><p>With that Barda turned around and closed light as a feather.</p><p>All her strength drained from her body, Diana sunk to the floor in a pool of cotton and horsehair skirts. Weakly she crawled to the side of her bed.</p><p>Leaning against the soft mattress’s side she, for a moment, hid her face in the warm comfort of the overhanging blankets.</p><p>Turning back, she took in a deep breath, shakily filling her burning lungs.</p><p>Slowly, cautiously, she reached a hand beneath the bed skirt and felt her nail graze the smooth wood of the jewelry chest.</p><p>Leaving her finger faintly touching the relic she laid her head on the bed’s edge.</p><p>
  <em>I am sixteen today.</em>
</p><p>Her eyes traveled up the wall until they looked into the melancholic azure eyes of the portrait. Her mother’s portrait, her <em>English </em>mother.</p><p>
  <em>Another year gone, the first of the rest of my life.</em>
</p><p>Hot tears scalded behind her unblinking lids as she pulled her hand back, resting it within the folds of her consuming skirts, and another piece buried itself further from the surface, locked beneath the meticulously crafted veneer.</p><p>
  <em>I am Lady Diana Princeton, I am English, I live at Riverfoot Hall, my family loves me very much, and I am happy.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Kent Townhouse London England March 24, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Lois </em>
</p><p>Another year…another failure…</p><p>Lois felt like a caged animal clawing at bars as she sat in bed. Every picture and figuring seemed to be staring at her, judging her, mocking her.</p><p>Lois's skin crawled with irritation as her surrounding closed in on her, she had to get out of that room!</p><p>Except she couldn’t.</p><p>If she left then she would have to see <em>him</em>, and that was something she was not ready for.</p><p>Angry tears burned as they rolled down her cheeks. She glanced at her mother’s letter that laid crumpled in a ball on the floor where she had tossed it.</p><p>Lois squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memory of the hateful words on that page, but with no luck. They rolled through her mind like a pounding drum.</p><p>
  <em>I know you were never of a maternal disposition, but for once in your life think of your reputation and accept that as a woman you have certain obligations to fulfill. This latest failure may well mean your ruin! One miscarriage is easy enough to forgive, but two is not! Think of your sister, how many men do you think will want a bride whose familial abilities are in question? How could you be so reckless, once a man’s eye wanders it doesn’t journey back. For heaven’s sake, Lois do your duty, your husband needs an heir…</em>
</p><p>She hadn’t finished reading the letter but instead threw it at the fire, she’d missed.</p><p>Yes, she knew he needed an heir, she knew that was the only job a wife was supposed to accomplish. The one thing a woman was meant to be able to do, and yet she couldn’t. She didn’t need Mrs. Lane’s assistance, Lois already felt a failure, as a wife, and as a woman.</p><p>And why was her mother harping on about her sister? Lucy was only 12 for goodness sake!</p><p><em>Ugh! </em>Lois moaned as she hid her face in her hands. The way Mrs. Lane spoke you’d think Lois had <em>planned</em> to miscarry.</p><p>Some of what her mother said was true. Lois had never given any thought to becoming a mother and didn’t really feel she was suited for the role. But nothing, in the whole world, could ever have made her desire the pain and confusion she had endured now twice over. No, she wouldn’t wish this on her worst enemy.</p><p>What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t give him a child, would Clark really tire of me? He wants children so badly, I can see it in his eyes, practically begging every day. No, Clark wouldn’t abandon me, he’s too honorable...Now, but will he always? I don’t know, I just don’t know. <em>Ugh,</em> why did you marry <em>me,</em> farm boy!</p><p>Again, she caught sight of the letter and Lois seethed with rage and hurt.</p><p>Lois wanted to scream, to hurt someone like she was hurting, more than anything she just wanted to let it out!</p><p>Her eyes searched frantically around the room for something in reach. They landed on the silver-backed mirror on the nightstand. It had been a wedding gift from Clark’s mother, another person she’d disappointed.</p><p>With an all-consuming fury, Lois snatched the mirror, gripping the handle till her knuckles were white.</p><p>Rearing back, she hurled the precious antique at the fireplace and watched it shatter into a thousand pieces, glass shards splintering in every direction.</p><p>But instead of the release she’d hoped for, a tight knot twisted in the pit of her stomach as her doubts and fears crowded in on her louder than before, isolating her in a fog of pain.</p><p>Lois buried her head beneath the covers, begging to disappear.</p><p>She felt so lonely if only someone were there to tell her it would be alright. Lois surprised herself by wishing Clark would come in and soothe her with his useless promises of sunnier days and simple naïve reassurance that everything would be fine.</p><p>But, if he came to her, then she would have to see the disappointment and concern in his sickeningly kind eyes. She’d have to face him when she’d lost the thing he wanted most. No, that was something she just couldn’t do.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>—Clark</em>
</p><p><em>Silence</em>,</p><p>He raised his hand, poised to knock again, but after a moment’s hesitation, he lowered his arm. Staring at the closed door for a moment longer, Clark turned and walked back down the hall.</p><p>She wouldn’t let him in any way.</p><p>The loneliness settled over the house like a cold frost.</p><p>He didn’t want it to be like this. He longed to hold his wife in his arms and share their grief. To reassure her that it didn’t matter if they had children because he wanted <em>her</em> more. To see her face as he let go of his dreams of being a father if it would make her happy. To just talk, simply be together and talk. But he couldn’t, because she didn’t want him.</p><p>In another year perhaps…another year.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 19: Blood is Thicker</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 19: Blood is Thicker</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Queene’s Abbey East Sussex England April 7, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Bruce </em>
</p><p>Three days!</p><p>For three days Bruce had been battling with Lord Randle and they were still getting nowhere!</p><p>Bruce gritted his teeth as the elder man, ignoring the question, launched into yet another tirade over the prestigious history of the Randle family.</p><p>“And then, after the King restored to him his rightful inheritance, my ancestor, Charles Randle, the last living Randle male after Cromwell’s bloody revolt, had to secure the family’s future in marriage.”</p><p>
  <em>Good Lord, is he going to recite the entire family history to me? </em>
</p><p>Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes at the upstanding, balding man with cross eyebrows who paced like a lecturer before him.</p><p>“But for his choice he knew must be prudent, and selective, considering the impact to future generations in his future bride.”</p><p>
  <em>Is this sermon going to include a monologue about Adam and Eve as well?</em>
</p><p>“As he looked around England, he found very few ladies that fit his high criteria, and even they seemed to hold one fatal flaw…”</p><p>
  <em>This is ridiculous.</em>
</p><p>“They weren’t Catholic.”</p><p>
  <em>And finally, we arrive at the point!</em>
</p><p>“Practical as he was Charles Randle was none the less a devoted son of the Church, and a Protestant wife would never do. And so, he looked outside of his own country to the nobles of Europe.”</p><p>
  <em>I can’t take much more of this.</em>
</p><p>“His wife would be virginal and pure. He continued his search until it led him to <em>Doña</em> Maria Ana de la Vega y Silva a young Spanish woman of noble birth and noted for her piety. Truly a worthy woman in every regard.”</p><p>“I do wonder Sir Francis if the lovely <em>Doña </em>would have been considered quite so worthy had she not been one of the wealthiest heiresses in Europe. Also, wasn’t she barely 14-year-old, and unaware of her proxy marriage until her husband came to collect her from a convent, like a merchant purchasing a mule?”</p><p>Francis’s narrow face turned red and he puffed his thin chest.</p><p>“It was a different time, <em>your Grace</em>.” Francis looked as if he might choke on his words.</p><p>Bruce rose from his chair and crossed the library till he stood across from Francis beside the stained-glass window that bore the family coat of arms.</p><p>“You still have not answered my question, Sir, do I have your permission for your niece’s hand in marriage?”</p><p>Francis studied the younger man with an earnest severity.</p><p>“You think yourself worthy to marry one of my blood?”</p><p>Bruce smirked.</p><p>“It is true that my title doesn’t reach as far back as Edward the Confessor…but it does come closer than yours <em>Sir</em> Randle, if only slightly.”</p><p>Francis's fists clenched and his gaze turned into a glare, full of suspicion.</p><p>“You believe all I care about is your family position boy?”</p><p>Bruce hesitated.</p><p>Frankly yes, he had thought that was the main debate here, and Randle’s pride.</p><p>Francis looked almost disappointed with Bruce’s reaction.</p><p>Instantly recovering his previously tottering dignity, Lord Randle walked past the Duke to a bookshelf on the opposing wall.</p><p>He stopped by an ornate stand upon which rested a medieval Latin translation of the old testament. Reverently he ran a rough hand over the illuminated pages, murmuring in a hushed tone.</p><p>“<em>For I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, even unto the third and fourth generation…</em>”</p><p>Francis removed his hand from ancient pages.</p><p>“No, I made a vow long ago, and I will not break it now. I have always intended that she shall live a religious life. When she has turned 25 a place will be made for her at an Irish convent. To take her place as a bride of Christ.”</p><p>Bruce arched an eyebrow and stifled a laugh with a cough at the notion of Selina living a monastic life in Ireland. Francis shot him with a withering look.</p><p>“Has she agreed to this?”</p><p>Francis stiffened, but his eyes softened.</p><p>“Lambs need to be led.”</p><p>Closing his eyes, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.</p><p>“She’d burn the place down in a week.”</p><p>“You are not a Catholic!”</p><p>“No, and I don’t have any intentions to convert. But I have no objections to any man, or woman, practicing whatever faith they choose. The fact is Sir, your <em>plan</em> for your niece is at complete odds with her nature.”</p><p>Francis’s stance deflated a little as if this knowledge was saddening to him but not surprising.</p><p>Adopting a more respectful tone Bruce once more made his request.</p><p>“I swear to you, I will never stand in the way of her faith. I will provide her with a comfortable life, I will be faithful, and do everything in my power to secure her happiness. Do I or do I not have your permission, to marry Miss Kyle?”</p><p>Francis let out a long, defeated sigh, making his light-brown walrus mustache flutter over his lip.</p><p>“It is Lina’s decision.”</p><p> </p><p>—<em>Selina</em></p><p>Selina hopped away from the door and lounged in the corner.</p><p>The ancient oak swung open as Bruce exited the library and started down the hall.</p><p>“Going somewhere?”</p><p>Bruce looked over his shoulder and smiled.</p><p>Turning around he crossed his arms and Selina could see his muscles tense beneath his shirt. She curled her toes in her shoes as he sauntered back towards the corner.</p><p>“Are you spying in doorways like a cat?”</p><p>“Cats know all the best secrets.” Selina purred.</p><p>“Is that so?”</p><p>His firm jawline always softened when he smiled, she noted.</p><p>On a whim, Selina stood on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply, arching her back to bring his lips closer to hers.</p><p>She felt him give in to her for a moment and lean into the kiss, before frantically pulling back.</p><p>Laughing she released him and watched his flustered expression as he looked around to be sure no one saw. She loved that look of surprise on his face. He was so cool and collected, she liked being the one to shake him up.</p><p>“Selina, what are you doing, what if someone saw!”</p><p>She bit her lip to keep from laughing, he didn’t like being laughed at. Reaching up she ruffled the front of his perfectly sculpted hair and ducked beneath his arm to the freedom of the hallway.</p><p>“You think too much.” She said and began walking backwards down the hall, luring him to follow.</p><p>Bruce shook his head and followed her smiling form, chuckling quietly at her fearless disregard of conventions.</p><p> </p><p>—<em>Bruce</em></p><p>Once in the garden, they began to walk the familiar path through the hedge maze. This was the only place they were not stalked by chaperones and servants, a constant presence during the last three months.</p><p>Bruce shortened his long strides to meet her nimble little footsteps.</p><p>Enjoying the comfortable silence, he took a minute to study her.</p><p>Her face was an array of contradictions that in any other order, or with any other personality, would seem odd and unattractive, but she was the lucky winner of that gamble that had resulted in a unique beauty that was all her own.</p><p>A square-shaped face, dominated by a sharp jawbone, which was soft when she smiled and harsh when she frowned, smoothed by a delicate chin and subtly hollowed cheeks.</p><p>Her lips were thin and sat at a slight angle, giving a permanent appearance of flirtation and a lovely smile.</p><p>The nose was long with a slight bump mid-bridge before it turned up and rounded at the tip.</p><p>Thick s-shaped eyebrows help disguise a large forehead which dissipated at a subtle widow’s peak.</p><p>Dense lashes framed a pair of brilliant, sphynx-like, slanting, emerald green eyes, with flakes of gold speckled around the pupils and a faint ring of dark blue-black circling the iris that magnified the richness of the green, darkening it until the hue was hypnotic.</p><p>Those emerald orbs glittered with mischievousness and a self-pride, constantly fascinating and confusing him.</p><p>Her neck was long, almost too much so, and was made more noticeable by her protruding collarbone.</p><p>Dark ink colored hair tried to escape a low chignon and wisps of it fluttered around her face. Contrasting sharply against luminously pale skin.</p><p>She was a short, slight little thing, that walked with her head held high and was positively stunning to his eyes.</p><p>“You still haven’t asked me.” Selina quipped, breaking the spell of his observation.</p><p>“I told you I was going to ask your uncle for your hand.”</p><p>“But you haven’t asked me, not properly.”</p><p>Unhooking her arm from his she walked ahead a few paces.</p><p>“Should I propose to your back, or are you going to turn around?”</p><p>She spun gracefully on her heels like a top and clapped her hands behind her back expectantly.</p><p>Getting down on one knee he turned his light blue eyes up to her.</p><p>“Selina Kyle, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”</p><p>She gave a low chortle and motioned for him to stand. It always struck him to hear such a deep husky voice come from such a small woman.</p><p>“With pleasure, Mr. Wayne.”</p><p>She gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, he clasped one of her hands and brought it to his lips for a kiss of his own.</p><p>Folding her hand in the crook of his arm he led her, once again, through the maze.</p><p>“Would you prefer a long engagement or short?” He asked.</p><p>“Short. As short as possible.”</p><p>He laughed and pushed a piece of black hair out of his eyes.</p><p>“Fine with me, Duchess.”</p><p>Selina leaned her head against his shoulder, and they finished their walk once more in comfortable silence.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Sultan’s Palace Kingdom of Dagra April 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Garsiv</em>
</p><p>“We will need all the allies we can get <em>before</em> this war begins,” Abdullah stated, moving the pieces on the map to add more soldiers to the western border.</p><p>“And how are we supposed to do that when <em>he</em> won’t cooperate?” Zansar questioned from where he lounged on the floor.</p><p>“He will, every man has his price, even Darkside. We just need to find what it is.” Abdullah replied.</p><p>“Did you offer him <em>all</em> of the gold from selling our mother’s daughter?” asked Kareem.</p><p>“He wouldn’t accept it as enough; we just need to find what will sweeten the offer,” Abdullah answered.</p><p>“Well I wish you would discover it sooner rather than later because in case you haven’t noticed, dear brother, the war has already begun!” spat Azam, knocking down the row of wooden soldiers the Crown Prince had moved.</p><p>“Not officially! There has been no formal declaration.” Abdullah countered, standing the figures upright again.</p><p>“The league's forces have been raiding our caravans and massacring herders for months. Cutting off supplies and weakening our defenses. He doesn’t need a formal declaration to start a war he only needs to strike, and he has!” Dastan yelled.</p><p>“He has nearly done conquering the Bedouins to the south and will be coming for us next.” Added Hazzim while Khurso and Dara nodded in agreement.</p><p>“Which is why we need allies!” Shouted Abdullah.</p><p>“Exactly! So, stop wasting time and find us some allies who will actually cooperate!” Murad yelled back.</p><p>“SILENCE!” The Sultan boomed, ending his sons’ arguing.</p><p>Garsiv stroked his chin as he studied the map and the princes waited for his decision.</p><p>“The other tribes will never join us if means opposing Darkside, and if he is not aligned with our interests then we risk him joining the league. Abdullah find his price and do it quickly. Azam is right, the war is already here, and the demon’s head won’t wait in the desert forever.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 20: Carefree Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 20: Carefree Days</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Wayne Castle Kent England April 10, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Alfred</em>
</p><p>Alfred carefully addressed the final invitation.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>You are cordially invited to the wedding of </em>
</p><p>
  <em>His Grace, Bruce Thomas Wayne, Duke of Gotham,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To Miss Selina Maria Kyle</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A pleased smile warmed his old face as he stamped the wax with the Wayne family seal.</p><p>At long last, the Wayne name would live on.</p><p>Dropping the note into his pocket he carried it to the front door, put on his hat, and went to deliver the messages to those lucky few locals who had garnered an invitation.</p><p>This was a day that Alfred had long waited for.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Riverfoot Hall Kent England April 10, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Diana </em>
</p><p>Diana drummed her foot against the floorboards as she waited for Barda to finish fastening the buttons on her dress.</p><p>
  <em>Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!</em>
</p><p>Her fidgeting increased until a rough hand pulled her shoulders back and her maid’s deep voice growled, “hold still.”</p><p>Letting out an exaggerated sigh Diana looked longingly out the window at the bright morning light. It had rained nearly continuously for the last six days. This was the first morning the sun had peaked out and she wasn’t going to waste it locked indoors.</p><p>
  <em>Come on, let me out!</em>
</p><p>“Done,” Barda grunted and turned towards the vanity, reaching for the brush.</p><p>“Nope, don’t even think about touching my hair, I am not losing another moment!”</p><p>Diana bounded from the room and flew down the hall, raven tresses flowing freely behind her. Spring had sprung and so was she.</p><p>Barreling down the stairs she hit the landing, waved a quick “Good Morning” to Aunt Martha in the parlor, and finally burst threw the front door into the exhilarating cool morning air, drinking in gulps of it into her starved lungs.</p><p>“Where HAVE you been?!?”</p><p>Diana turned her head and saw Kara standing with hands-on-hips, a tangled bundle of posies pocking out of her pinafore pockets, and a mischievous glint in her eye.</p><p>“They aren’t here yet are they?” Diana asked, panicking.</p><p>“No, but they will be soon. Come on and help me before Clark finds us and tries to make us start lessons. <em>Ugh,</em> adults are so boring!”</p><p>Kara took off running towards where the far side of the front lawn met a small grove of trees. Laughing Diana followed her.</p><p>Once at the edge of the grove they began setting up. Diana had been reading a lot of folk tales lately and had decided that their little group should try reenacting some of the scenes. Kara had thought that summoning fairies was the first interesting thing to come from Diana’s dusty old books and had heartily agreed.</p><p>Aunt Martha had obliged Diana’s suggestion of Barbara joining their small schoolroom and the scholarly redhead was due to arrive, as always, punctually at 8. Barbara had declared Diana’s theatrical a fine exercise in living archeology and therefore would be bringing all the “authentic” ingredients for a love potion, which she had snuck from the kitchen. As well as an old copper pot to serve as a cauldron. Diana was relieved that Barbara was eager to play the witch, but she hoped the day wouldn’t be hampered by any lengthy explanations on the history of uses for mushrooms and tree bark.</p><p>Lastly, Lucy was supposed to come too, but her arrival was less dependent on the clock and more so on her mother’s moods. Still, Diana hoped she wouldn’t be too late. She also hoped that Lucy wouldn’t cry when presented with the frog Kara had caught that would be standing in for Merlin. It would be so lovely to get through just ONE gathering without Lucy whimpering, though, Diana did have to give credit that at least the younger Miss Lane was growing quieter in her nervousness if no less consistent.</p><p>“This won’t be enough flowers.” Kara judged.</p><p>“Well, that’s ok, we could always use some clover or—”</p><p>“No, no, no! You can’t summon spring with clovers! Honestly, think Diana.”</p><p>Diana bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the serious little blonde.</p><p>“We will just have to find more.” With that Kara hopped down from the tree stump she had been surveying from and started marching towards the grove, clearly expecting her cousin to follow.</p><p>Shrugging, the older girl followed, keeping her eye trained on the ground for any spring blooms that they might have missed. This was going to be a good day!</p><p>Several hours later the troupe had assembled and were preparing to execute their first reenactment, or at least they were trying to.</p><p>“Caroline Kent you give that to me this instant!” Demanded Barbara.</p><p>“No! It’s mine and I won’t relinquish it!”</p><p>Kara waved a large carving knife in large S shapes, making the air whistle around Barbara’s ears. As for the redhead, fire steaming from her nostrils, her face turned nearly as dark as her hair as she held a large copper pot over her head as a makeshift helmet for protection. Meanwhile, Lucy nervously strangled a wreath of flowers in her hand and began to hiccup as her anxiety increased and Diana rubbed her temples at the mess unraveling around her.</p><p>“A Butter knife, you were only supposed to get A BUTTER KNIFE YOU IMPOSSIBLE CRETIN GIVE IT HERE!”</p><p>Barbara began swinging her pot by the handle, trying to beat the weapon out of the vigilante’s hand. Kara screamed and ran back across the clearing, Barbara hot on her tail.</p><p>Diana took off after them to prevent the inevitable bloodshed. She would’ve easily overtaken them with her long legs, that is if she hadn’t had to drag Lucy along behind her.</p><p>When they did catch up the two duelists were frantically running a race of cat and mouse around the old stump.</p><p>“Kara give her the knife!” Diana pleaded.</p><p>“NEVER!” Hollered the pint-sized Joan of Arc, raising the knife in the air and letting out such a forceful battle cry that Diana had to cover her ears from the sonic boom. Surely even the faraway Scots could hear that call to freedom.</p><p>“TROUBLESOME BRAT!” Barbara hurled her pot at Kara’s back.</p><p>“Careful!” Squeaked Lucy.</p><p>The copper vessel clipped Kara’s skirt as it went sailing through the air. The blonde yelped and sped up, but her red-haired assailant’s toe collided with a root and gravity did the rest.</p><p>The pot went bouncing in one direction, Kara went sprinting in the other, and Barbara smacked the ground with her face. Both legs flying over her head taking her dress and petticoats with them.</p><p> “Ahhhhhhhhh!”</p><p>“Barbara!” Lucy ran to her side.</p><p>Hearing the sweet sound of defeat Kara stopped running and looked back. Lucy was trying to delicately replace Barbara’s skirts while the fury fought to free herself from the tangle of cloth.</p><p>With a wicked smile, Kara flew back across the green and jumped atop the stump. Brandishing her knife, she hoisted it into the air, pointed at her fallen foe, and gave a hearty “HA!”</p><p>Throwing off the last layer of cloth Barbara pushed Lucy away and leaped to her feet, crouching like a wrestler she brandished her nails, out for blood.</p><p>“THAT’S IT, YOU’RE DONE!”</p><p>Barbara lurched for the stump</p><p>“BACK WITCH!” Kara screamed and crossed the knife in front of herself defensively.</p><p>Barbara’s attacking form halted her face a mere breath’s width from the sharp edge of the knife.</p><p>Time froze as Kara saw the other girl’s blue eyes double in size and fill with terror.</p><p>Suddenly Kara was smacked by flying red hair as Barbara was flung back, away from near death.</p><p>Barbara hit the lawn on her back with a cracking THUD!</p><p>Kara’s fingers went slack, and the knife fell. Blinking she continued to stare dumbly at the crying girl on the ground.</p><p>Wait, that was Lucy crying not Barbara.</p><p>Kara became aware of two distinct bodies lying tangled on the ground, the one crawled frantically towards the other and waved her hands over the other motionless figure. That one was Lucy, she was fanning Barbara’s face because Barbara, wasn’t moving.</p><p>Fear gripped Kara as she stood frozen to the stump, unable to blink.</p><p>
  <em>Dear God, I killed her! </em>
</p><p>Just then a breeze brushed something against her hand.</p><p>Kara flicked her eyes down. Raven hair flipped by her hand and Kara followed the strands up till her head rested back against her shoulder’s and she stared into the face of a giantess.</p><p>Diana stood like a wall, feet planted firmly apart, fingers curled into a fist, her right arm braced, and taunt stretched between Kara and the fallen figure of Barbara.</p><p>She loomed over them like an angry god and Kara’s knees went weak when she glanced at the steely power in those azure eyes that narrowed when they locked with her own.</p><p>Diana lowered her arm and Kara snapped back at the sound of Barbara wheezing on the ground.</p><p>“She’s alive!” Kara shouted as a wave of relief crashed over her.</p><p>“No thanks to you.” Barbara coughed.</p><p>“Enough, both of you,” Diana commanded.</p><p>“Diana! You saved her, you’re a hero!” Kara gushed.</p><p>The older girl blinked in confusion as the little blonde latched on to her arm and gazed up worshipfully at her cousin.</p><p>“No, I didn’t.”</p><p>Kara nodded her head assuredly and hung on tighter.</p><p>“Of course, you did! You blocked her with your arm and the sheer force of your strength threw her!”</p><p>“What are you talking about? Lucy jumped in front of Barbara and tackled her.”</p><p>Disbelief slapped across Kara’s face as she dropped her cousin’s arm.</p><p>“Lucy? That’s impossible, you had your arm out!”</p><p>“Ya, to stop you.”</p><p>“ME?!?” Kara squeaked in offense. “From what?!?”</p><p>“From jumping on Barbara when she was down.”</p><p>Kara looked suspiciously from her cousin to Lucy and Barbara sitting on the ground, back to Diana, then back to Lucy.</p><p>“I’m not buying it,” Kara stated crossing her arms. “You saved Babs from death and that’s all there is to it.”</p><p>“Oh, for goodness sake, I did not, and nobody was going to die.”</p><p>“Yes, she was! But, Babs, since my cousin has saved you, I will now consider your existence permissible and declare a truce.”</p><p>“Gee, thanks.” Barbara glared at the mite, “And don’t call me Babs.”</p><p>“No can do Babsy, it’s a sign of my affection.”</p><p>“Great.” Barbara shook her head, surrendering.</p><p>“I think it’s sweet.” Smiled Lucy, who hoped that perhaps, finally, they could all behave nicely together.</p><p>As Kara spoke Diana picked up the Butcher Knife, the cause of this whole kerfuffle, and rolled her eyes before placing two fingers between her teeth and shooting out an ear-piercing whistle.</p><p>“Hey! I may be alive but that’s no reason to make me deaf.” Quipped Barbara.</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>Lucy helped Barbara stand. However, when Lucy started trying to clean the dirt off Barbara’s pinafore, she brushed her away.</p><p>Right on cue Big Barda came marching across the lawn answering her mistress’s call. Kara wondered if Barda minded being whistled for like a dog.</p><p>Barda halted a couple of feet from her young charge and crossed her arms, and though the scowl never left her face she seemed to be waiting patiently for her orders like any trained soldier.</p><p>Seeing the height difference between the two made Barbara, Lucy, and Kara feel like ants in their shadows. If Diana seemed giant to them than Barda was a thing of legend.</p><p>Barbara shook her head in wonder, having recently clocked the maid’s height to be 6 foot 4 inches. That was 2 inches above Lord Clark and good 6 inches over Diana! Barbara had taken everyone’s measurements last week as part of an experiment in physics.</p><p>Pushing a stray strand of hair out of her face Diana held out the knife to the maid.</p><p>“Take this back to the kitchen please.”</p><p>Without a word, the maid took it and strode back to the house.</p><p>The three let out a collective sigh. Diana may not have had any trouble ordering that goliath around, but the others wished to continue living and had cultivated a healthy mixture of respectful awe and fear of the mysterious maid.</p><p>“Now,” started Diana, taking charge of the production. “We will no longer be doing King Arthur and Excalibur. We’ll do Persephone summoning spring instead.”</p><p>“Aww, why?” whined Kara.</p><p>“Because you can’t be trusted. Now <em>shoo</em>, off the stump.” Diana placed her hands on her hips like she’d seen Lois do when she ordered others around.</p><p>Lucy clapped her hands excitedly and Barbara went to retrieve her dinted pot while Kara begrudgingly climbed down.</p><p>“This will be much better Kara you’ll see, now we don’t need a Merlin. It’s really not lady-like to carry around a toad anyway.” Lucy soothed, setting the youngest girl’s teeth on edge.</p><p>“If I could turn one person into a toad, I know who it’d be,” Kara grumbled as she snatched the crushed flower crown from Lucy’s hand and smashed it down on her own head.</p><p>Later, as four fairy figures danced in a circle, with wreaths of flowers in their hair, and no shoes on their feet, a man was steadily making his way up the walk towards the house.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>—Alfred</em>
</p><p>“Always a pleasure Pennyworth.”</p><p>“Same to you Desmond,” Alfred replied with a dignified tilt of the head which was mirrored by the Kents’ portly butler as he accepted the invitation.</p><p>Glancing at the folded paper Desmond bobbed his head and closed the door.</p><p>Breathing in a deep draught of fresh air Alfred turned on his heels, clipped them together, and started walking away from the house.</p><p>“ALFRED!”</p><p>The gentleman turned back to see a beautiful nymph running across the lawn.</p><p>Laughing quietly to himself Alfred bowed respectfully as the girl skidded to a stop in front of him. He took a moment to take in her very bohemian appearance.</p><p>Bare feet peeked out beneath a white muslin dress that had several grass-stains along the skirt. The sleeves had been rolled up past the elbow and her hands had a layer of dirt on them that would make a gardener proud. The violets on her dress were complimented by the wreath of posies that sat askew on her head and was practically buried in the mass of unruly raven curls that swept around her smiling face, flushed cheeks from fresh air and a smearing of dirt across her forehead all made the more lovely by her eyes the sparkled with happiness at seeing him.</p><p>“Good afternoon <em>Your Highness</em>, it’s a pleasure to see you.”</p><p>Diana reached into her pocket and produced a letter.</p><p>“Would you mind delivering this to Bruce for me?”</p><p>“I’d be glad to, does this mean you were finally able to finish the poem?”</p><p>Diana nodded excitedly.</p><p>“It took a while, but I finally found the right one! I’ve only included the next stanza though, so he will have to finish it. Oh, we are still going to play chess on Wednesday yes?”</p><p>“Of course. I’ve been tinkering with my lemon cake recipe and I am eager for you and Miss Barda to try it. I want only honest feedback mind you.”</p><p>Diana raised her hand in oath. “I promise to only tell the truth, but I can make no promises on Barda speaking at all.”</p><p>“Then I await your visit Princess, and Miss Barda’s.”</p><p>Diana rolled her eyes at the butler’s unfailing consideration of her stoic guardian, missing the sympathetic twitch of his smile beneath his trimmed mustache.</p><p>Bowing again he began to leave.</p><p>“Wait Alfred, wouldn’t you like to come inside? I know Aunt Martha would be happy to see you.”</p><p>“That is very kind, but I am afraid I still have a few messages to deliver.”</p><p>“Messages? Did Bruce send a letter!”</p><p>“Well—” Alfred began, but it was too late, Diana had already run into the house.</p><p>He watched her go and shook his head sympathetically, some lessons can only be learned the hard way.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Riverfoot Hall Kent England April 10, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Clark </em>
</p><p>Clark continued to shift through the seemingly endless pile of papers, trying to construct some semblance of order among the chaos engulfing his father’s desk.</p><p>He groaned as he read yet another bill, wondering how best to stretch his mother’s allowance to cover the additional charges that had been made for the girl’s new spring clothing. Why must children continue to grow?</p><p>On the other side of the cozy study, his mother pretended to concentrate on replying to her various correspondents, but Clark could feel her worried gaze watching him.</p><p>He knew what she was wondering, why was he still here?</p><p>Martha Kent was the picture of loving consideration and would rather die than interfere, perhaps she should have interfered more, but a life’s worth of habits is near impossible to break. As a result, she silently struggled with the least invasive way of voicing her concerns to her son, more likely than not she would give up on being direct, as she could discern no inoffensive way to be confrontational, and instead present a vague question on his well-being, hoping he would present the information she wanted on his own.</p><p>He had been at his childhood home for a little over a week. He had arrived under the guise of attending to the estate, and though there was some truth to that, it was quite obviously the least of his reasons for running home.</p><p>Reasons aside, the most notable outcome of his presence was that he was driving all those in residence insane!</p><p>He was incessant, from morning to dust, fine combing the budget, questioning the servants on their weekly uses of soap and shoe polish. Measuring out Cook’s flour and arguing that no loaf of bread justified such a wasteful amount of bench flour! He had questioned the Butler over every fine detail of the household’s expenses and inefficiencies until the man’s pride was positively stinging and his puffy face a worrying shade of purple.</p><p>The children had taken to avoiding him as he was constantly badgering them over their lessons and lecturing them on taking better care of their things. It had gotten so bad that Diana had run to her Aunt in tears over his criticisms and Kara had loudly pronounced that he should mind his own business and even tried to bite him on the knee before being wrestled to the ground by Vanessa.</p><p>Even his mother hadn’t been spared, as she had caught him counting the rolls of yarn in her knitting basket while making notes in his ledger.</p><p>Martha loved her son, but his obsessiveness was becoming a problem.</p><p>A small pang constricted her heart. How she wished Jonathan had taken more care in teaching their son how to manage his inheritance, but Clark had not shown much interest in it then, and they had both mistakenly believed there was still plenty of time. But there hadn’t been, and now Martha worried as she watched her son struggle with the responsibilities, he was ill-equipped to handle. Including his wife.</p><p>Clark continued to pretend to not notice his mother’s concern and adjusted his glasses further down on his nose, to magnify the words on the paper, and blur the troublesome image of his mother’s face.</p><p>“So, Clark, how is Lois?”</p><p><em>There it is. </em>Clark thought. He looked at her, she looked so tired, how could he trouble her with more worries that she couldn’t fix? Better to let her live-in blissful ignorance.</p><p>He was saved from answering by a knock on the door.</p><p>“What is it Desmond?” Clark asked.</p><p>“Forgive me milady, but a message has arrived from Wayne Castle.”</p><p>“Thank you, Desmond.” Martha smiled politely taking the note.</p><p>The Butler bowed and left the room, never acknowledging the master’s presence.</p><p><em>Clearly, he still hasn’t forgiven me. </em>Clark thought guiltily.</p><p>“Oh my!”</p><p>Clark jumped up at his mother’s cry and rushed to her side.</p><p>“What is it Ma?”</p><p>“Bruce Wayne is to be married!”</p><p>“What! To whom?”</p><p>Martha’s eyes glistened with tears as she handed the letter to Clark. He took it from his mother’s shaking hand and read it out loud.</p><p>“His Grace, Bruce Thomas Wayne, to marry, Miss Selina Maria Kyle, on May the 22<sup>nd</sup> year of our Lord 1844, at the church of St. Margaret, Gotham Kent.”</p><p>Martha’s face beamed with joy as she clasped her hands in a silent prayer of thanks.</p><p>“Tom and Mittie would be so pleased. Though I’ve never heard of his fiancée before, Clark do you know who she is?”</p><p>Clark shook his head.</p><p>“No, I’ve never met her, but I’ve heard she’s a relative of Sir Randle.”</p><p>Martha nodded thoughtfully, “Really? Well, that would explain the service’s location. Randle…I wonder…it must’ve been 25 years since…”</p><p>“What was that Ma?”</p><p>“Huh? Oh, nothing dear, well, I’m sure she’s lovely. It’s about time that gloomy old castle had a lady’s touch.”</p><p>“Don’t let Alfred here you say that, he’d be quite offended.” Clark laughed gleefully as he read the invitation one more time. “Maybe Diana will finally stop loitering over there now.”</p><p>Clark was so absorbed in thought he didn’t see his mother’s smile fall away and her eyes widen with concern.</p><p>Diana’s infatuation had not dimmed and was causing him continued concern. Perhaps now the whole matter could be laid to rest and Diana could get back to enjoying her childhood.</p><p>This quiet reflection was shattered by the loud and abrupt entrance of the girl herself, bursting into the room.</p><p>“Did Bruce send a letter?”</p><p>Clark stared blankly at the young girls smiling face.</p><p>“Diana dear, come have a seat.”</p><p>Martha cleared a space next to her on the divan and Diana dutifully plopped down, looking up at Clark with expectant eyes. Clark continued to remain silent.</p><p>Reaching over Aunt Martha took one of the girl’s hands in her soft ones.</p><p>“Diana, Bruce has sent us an invitation.”</p><p>The young girl looked confused.</p><p>“Invitation to what?”</p><p>Martha hesitated; Clark however was no longer lost for words.</p><p>“His wedding,” Clark said calmly.</p><p>Again, her eyes lit up as she turned back to her cousin.</p><p>“To Miss Selina Kyle.”</p><p>The light instantly died, and Martha watched silently as those azure eyes dimmed and darkened before her.</p><p>The air grew thick as the silence drug on. Clark began to squirm under her gaze and fought the urge to retreat behind the safety of the desk.</p><p>Martha patted her hand, Clark kept clearing his throat, trying to think of what he should say, while Diana continued to look at him.</p><p>“You will have a new dress for the wedding,” Clark said, trying to think of something positive for her to react to, instead of sitting there like marble. “It will probably be a large event, normally ladies not out in society can’t attend the evening celebrations but maybe we could make an exception—”</p><p>In a flash Diana stood, brushed past him, and slammed the door as she left, making the portrait of his father swing on the wall.</p><p>Clark turned in shock to his mother who shook her head at him.</p><p>“Oh Clark, I’m afraid that was the wrong thing to say.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>—Diana</em>
</p><p>Branches slapped her bare legs, hair stung her face, every breath burned her throat as she struggled to breathe, and her mouth tasted of salt as tears flowed uncontrolled blinding her vision, making her totally dependent on the horse as it ran free from direction through the forest.</p><p>A feeling of weightlessness filled her as they jumped another obstacle, was it a fence or hedge? Diana didn’t know, she continued to bury her face in the black mare’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of sweat and horsehair, letting the animal race freely.</p><p>
  <em>It can’t be true, it just can’t be true, why? Why would he do that? He loves me, I thought you loved me!</em>
</p><p>The pounding of hooves echoed the pounding in her head.</p><p>
  <em>Me, you were supposed to marry me!</em>
</p><p>Again, the weight on her chest lifted as horse and rider lifted in the air and landed on the beaten earth with a thud.</p><p>How could she be so stupid, how could she have been so wrong!</p><p>
  <em>Faster, run faster, FASTER!</em>
</p><p>Diana lifted her head, pressing her knees into the animal’s sides she drove her on through the forest.</p><p>
  <em>Faster…</em>
</p><p>They had to outrun it, not think about the past, fleeing what hurt, they had to go faster.</p><p>Here it came, another obstacle to jump over, she saw the fallen tree across the path, with increased desperation she drove the horse faster towards the obstacle, she needed to clear it, she needed to escape, she wanted to fly!</p><p>The tree sped closer, in anticipation Diana lifted herself up from the horse’s back, loosening her hands from the mane, waiting to fly.</p><p>THUD!</p><p>Diana reached for the mane in vain. The next thing she felt was a fire burning through her entire body, she was suffocating, her lungs fought to fill with air, but her throat wouldn’t open. She dug her fingers into the soft dirt as her nostrils drowned with the stench of damp earth.</p><p>Pushing down against the ground she raised to her knees, every muscle screaming and quivering in protest.</p><p>Diana clawed her nails through the dirt, gritting her teeth as she tried to take a breath.</p><p>Needles stabbed her chest as the air forced its way into her constricted lungs and she coughed violently through the pain.</p><p>“Na-di-RA!” she screamed and looked back accusingly at the horse that stood unashamed before the tree it had refused to jump.</p><p>As if to confirm its indifference the beast blew hot air from its nostrils and began to munch on a patch of grass beneath the fallen branches.</p><p>Diana sighed and rolled over to a sitting position.</p><p>“What am I going to do Nadira? He was my first friend; I don’t want to say goodbye to anyone else.”</p><p>The horse snorted and meandered over to her where her mistress sat.</p><p>Diana rested her chin on her knees and looked at her muddy hands, watching as small bubbles of red formed and rolled down her palms. She knew she should feel pain, but all she felt now was numb.</p><p>“I actually thought…he loved me.”</p><p>A soft muzzle nudged her head and hot breath blew over her face.</p><p>Diana let out a shaky breath, brushed her eyes with heel of her hand, sniffed, and slowly stood up.</p><p>“Ok girl, let’s go back.”</p><p>Diana placed a hand along the horse’s neck and took a step.</p><p>A bloodcurdling scream split the air as Diana dropped back to the ground.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Wayne Castle Kent England April 10, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Bruce</em>
</p><p>“Grayson, it’s good to see you. Though I wish it were under different circumstances.”</p><p>The two men clasped forearms and Bruce gave his first mate a strong clap on the back.</p><p>“Sorry Captain, I told you I’d stick around until I’d found a replacement, and I’ve finally found him.”</p><p>“Well, if you’re recommending him then that’s good enough for me. I’ll miss you Grayson, but I’m sure Mary will be happy to have you back on dry land.”</p><p>The other man’s brown eyes lit up at the mention of his wife and he gave his superior a sheepish grin.</p><p>“And what about you? I hear wedding bells are in your future too. I can’t wait to meet the lady that caught Bruce Wayne’s attention!”</p><p>Bruce gave an uncomfortable grunt and his friend laughed at the Duke’s notorious introversion.</p><p>“I look forward to your meeting.” Bruce replied diplomatically, “but shouldn’t you introduce me to my new first mate? It seems rude to keep the man waiting much longer.”</p><p>Coming back to the present Grayson nodded and rushed to the study door. Bruce, meanwhile, took his seat behind the desk, making sure all the contract details were ready for the new crewman’s signature.</p><p>“Captain, I’d like to introduce Mr. John Stewart.”</p><p>Bruce looked up.</p><p>The man stood tall and dignified, his face was stern and reserved, broad shoulders calloused from working with rough ship ropes. His black skin was bronzed from the sun, his head was shaved, and a jagged scar ran down his left eyebrow and cheek barely missing his eye. His linen shirt and pants were clean and pressed and his mustache was neatly trimmed. He had brown eyes but when he moved his head tiny flashes of green flashed through them.</p><p>“John here is the best sailor in the western hemisphere,” Grayson exclaimed.</p><p>Bruce stood up and stretched out his hand.</p><p>“Pleasure to meet you, Mister Steward.”</p><p>The other man reciprocated the firm handshake.</p><p>“Likewise, Mister Wayne.”</p><p>Bruce’s eyebrows arched in surprise.</p><p>“You’re American?” he asked.</p><p>“I’m a sailor,” Stewart replied.</p><p>“Of course,” Bruce motioned for John to take a seat as he sat back down, Grayson lounged against the bookcase.</p><p>“Well, Mr. Stewart, if Grayson here thinks you’d be a good first mate then that’s all the assurance I need. Now about the contract, it’s for three years, you’ll be acting as captain unless I’m aboard, and the pay will be a 2% cut of the profits of each voyage as well as all provisions required for the duration. In the case of a loss, compensation will be paid based on the months at sea and difficulty of circumstances. Any questions?”</p><p>“How much tonnage can she carry and what type of ship?”</p><p>“Roughly 200 tons and she’s a clipper.”</p><p>“Seems fair. Where do I sign?”</p><p> Bruce handed him the contract and pushed forward the inkwell.</p><p>Stewart scanned the document quickly and signed. He and Bruce shook again, and Grayson gleefully slapped both men on the back.</p><p>“Well, I wish you both the best of luck men, and with that, I happily retire.”</p><p>Bruce smiled at his friend who began to lead the way out of the office.</p><p>Stewart began to follow but stalled and turned back.</p><p>He motioned towards Bruce’s desk, “That’s a fine chess set.”</p><p>Bruce looked down at the intricately carved pieces made to replicate figures of Greek mythology.</p><p>“Thank you, it’s a gift for a friend.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 21: To Have and to Hold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok, so a quick side note: The negative views different characters express about cultures and religions throughout this story are NOT my personal views.<br/>Also, for anyone worried with the direction of Selina vs Diana, don't worry, life is long and so is this story! I promise this is a BM/WW fic and I will not let the SHIP go down!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 21: To Have and to Hold</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>9:00 AM A Rented House, Gotham, Kent England May 22, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Selina </em>
</p><p>The bells rang loudly, announcing to the whole city that the Duke of Gotham was soon to have a Duchess!</p><p>Selina gave a tiny squeal as she watched the streets, already crowded with spectators, celebrating below. The early morning sunshine glinted across her ring and she once more admired the large square-cut emerald on her left finger.</p><p>She had initially worried it might be considered gaudy, but after the involuntary cry, she had given when Bruce had slipped it on her finger he had laughed and said that it reminded him of her eyes. That had sealed it, she was never taking this ring off ever! Dancing her finger in front of the window she shivered with delight as the gem bounced the light back and forth.</p><p>In her giddy state, she was completely oblivious to the bustling chaos around her.</p><p>The entire Randle clan and wedding party were crammed into this small townhouse her uncles had rented for the occasion. The only expense they were footing for the wedding by the way. Everything else, from the food to her dress itself had been paid for by Bruce. Selina truly was entering her marriage with nothing, and not so much as a penny on the way out from her family. But she did not care, in fact, it was better this way. She wanted nothing from any of them, and after today, she could happily never hear the name <em>Randle</em> again for as long as she lived!</p><p>“Lina! Stop preening and come get your hair done.” Aunt Hortense was in a better mood than usual today and gave her a smile that, if one didn’t know better, could have been confused for affectionate.</p><p>
  <em>She is probably just so happy to be rid of me her brain doesn’t know how to react. Doesn’t hurt either that she can now brag about having a Duchess in the family.</em>
</p><p>Selina obediently pranced back to where her Aunt waited at the vanity with the French Maid Bruce’s cousin Dinah had sent to do her hair.</p><p>The Maid ran skilled fingers nimbly through Selina’s poufy locks and shook her head good-naturedly at the assemblage of chattering hens behind her buzzing about the room, laughing and arguing as they helped one another get ready for the ceremony.</p><p>There were seven bridesmaids in all; Maggie, Eliza, and twins Hannah, and Georgiana Randle, who were in surprisingly good spirits. Then there were some of Bruce’s cousins; More twins, Elizabeth “Beth” and Katherine “Kate” Kane, and little Lucy Lane, who took in everything with such wide-eyed wonder that Selina found her simply adorable.</p><p>She was going to have eight bridesmaids originally, but, Bruce’s older cousin Mary Elizabeth “Bette” Kane, had laughed at the idea and said she was far too old for such nonsense. Aunt Hortense had been offended at the slight, but she didn’t care, nothing could spoil today!</p><p>“Where do you want the ribbon mademoiselle?”</p><p>The maid held up a slim sky-blue ribbon so Selina could see it in the mirror.</p><p>The Bride to be examined her new hairstyle; Parted down the center the front sections had been pulled softly back and pinned away from her face with combs. Then the loose falling hair had been taken into sections and curled over the maid's fingers till a seamless curl ran across the side of her head and tucked at the nape of her neck, making her head look like it was framed by a black heart-shaped halo. Finally, what hair remained was braided and twisted into a chignon, nestled at the nape, connecting the curled rows.</p><p>“Tie it to the braid,” Selina said.</p><p>The maid finished her work and Aunt Hortense nodded her approval.</p><p>“Where is Julia with the crown? You can’t put on the dress before the crown!”</p><p>Hortense went stomping out of the room in search of Julia and Selina began placing small drops of scent behind her ears and neck when she glanced a very pensive looking Lucy muttering in the background.</p><p>“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, a silver sixpence in her shoe.”</p><p>“Lucy, what are you doing?” Selina turned around to face the now embarrassed 12-year-old. She smiled kindly and the girl relaxed instantly.</p><p>“Well, your dress is new, the ribbon is something blue, and your Uncle Sebastian gave me this sixpence for your shoe, but you don’t have anything old or borrowed.”</p><p>Selina covered her mouth so Lucy wouldn’t see her laugh.</p><p>“Can’t the sixpence also count as something old? If it came from my uncle, then I’m sure it’s ancient. He might even want it back after the ceremony so it could be borrowed too.”</p><p>Lucy’s earnest eyes were horrified, and this time Selina wasn’t able to hide her laughter.</p><p>“Absolutely not! You can’t double up; you’ll ruin the luck!”</p><p>Selina ran her thumb over Lucy’s cheek, brushing away a frustrated tear.</p><p>“Don’t worry little Lucy, I like to think we make our own luck in life.”</p><p>Lucy didn’t have a chance to respond as they were interrupted by Hortense returning with a very angry looking Julia.</p><p>“Here we are!” Hortense exclaimed as she took the crown of orange blossoms and myrtle leaves from Julia and carefully placed it on Selina’s head.</p><p>Selina watched Julia’s bitter expression in the mirror as she shuffled through the various boxes and tissue paper looking for the veil. Hortense saw this and gave her niece a firm pat on the shoulder to regain her attention.</p><p>“Let that be a lesson to you Lina,” Hortense said motioning to Julia, “Men don’t like wives who complain. If you cannot get what you want through charm you never will, the moment you fight you’ve lost.”</p><p>Julia returned with the veil then and the two returned their attentions to her hair.</p><p>A knock on the door and a man’s head stuck into the crowded room.</p><p>“May I come in?” Uncle Sebastian grinned from the doorway.</p><p>“Sure!” Beth laughed while Kate let out a shrill whistle, Maggie, Hannah, and Georgiana protested loudly that men weren’t allowed to see the bride, and Lucy ran to hide behind Eliza.</p><p>“I’ll only be a moment!” Assured Sebastian as he waltzed over to the vanity and held out a piece of paper to Selina. “I just have some deliveries to make. Here you are, Lina.”</p><p>“What is it?” she asked.</p><p>“It’s a bank draft. Francis and I decided to give it to you now as a wedding gift, it is your mother’s portion of the inheritance. Only about 250 pounds but still quite a tidy sum.”</p><p>Selina glimpsed Julia’s face pinch in the mirror. <em>So that must have been what they were fighting about.</em></p><p>Looking down at the thin piece of paper Selina’s finger turned cold. She’d had money, this whole time she could’ve left? No, they’d hidden it from. Tightening her hands, she gave her Uncle a cold thank you, he didn’t seem to notice its icy edge.</p><p>“Oh! And one more thing.” Sebastian held up a black velvet drawstring pouch. “Wayne’s butler just delivered this, a wedding gift from the groom.”</p><p>All the other ladies crowded around as Selina opened the pouch. Reaching her claw in she pulled out the most beautiful piece of jewelry she had ever seen.</p><p>It was a necklace. Thirteen pearl drops hung from a delicate chain made of minuscule diamonds. Between each pearl was a thin diamond loop, connecting the drops, that looked like small crescents made of stars. The center drop was one especially large tear-shaped pearl hanging as a pendant, smooth as glass.</p><p>A sharp gasp made everyone turn their heads to see Kate trying to cover her shocked expression with her hands.</p><p>“Th-That was his mother’s,” Kate whispered almost reverently.</p><p>Selina looked back at the necklace in awe. It was so fine, she felt if she breathed too hard it might break.</p><p>She wasn’t worthy to wear this necklace, his mother’s necklace. A teary mist clouded her eyes as she felt the weight of this thing in her hands. <em>How could it ever be mine?</em></p><p>“Here.”</p><p>Hortense took it from her hands and placed it around her neck, the cool stones against her bare skin made Selina shiver.</p><p>“You look beautiful.” Eliza cooed while the rest silently nodded.</p><p>She was right. The woman looking back at her was someone Selina had never seen before, beautiful yes, but also confident, happy, and loved. This necklace was the proof, she was loved.</p><p>“I can’t believe it’s mine.” She shook her head wondering how to convince herself that this was all real. Then she let out an impetuous laugh and gently caressed the pearls.</p><p>“I guess I’ll just think of it as borrowed till I get used to it.” And with a flash of inspiration, she turned back around and exclaimed. “There you go Lucy, something borrowed!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>9:45 AM Riverfoot Hall, Kent England May 22, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Diana</em>
</p><p>The sound of the carriage rolling away was faint, but she could still hear it. How painful would it be to cut off one’s own ears?</p><p>She tried again to read her book, but her eyes wouldn’t focus on the words.</p><p>Frustrated she hurled it across the room and watch unsatisfied at it bounced off the wall and landed in a bent heap on the floor.</p><p>She looked at it for a minute, honestly impressed at how hard she had thrown it, before remembering with a jolt that she had borrowed that book from Barbara and the scholarly Babs would not take kindly to the destruction of her property.</p><p>“Barda!” Diana hollered.</p><p>No response.</p><p>She tried again.</p><p>“Barda!”</p><p>Still nothing.</p><p>“BARDA!”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>Groaning Diana strained across the chair to reach the cane she’d carelessly dropped when she sat down.</p><p>After quite a bit of straining and pawing at the rug, she managed to grab the infernal thing.</p><p>“GOT YA! Okay, now for the hard part.”</p><p>Gingerly she lifted her foot off the cushioned stool and slowly rotated till it was hovering over the floor. Supporting her weight on her other leg and pushing against the cane she gradually stood up and placed her still hovering foot down on the floor.</p><p>Wincing as her stiff muscles adjusted to the increased pressure, she made her way over to the abused book.</p><p>Just as her limping gate finally made it and she bent down the door to her room flung open unceremoniously and Big Barda filled the frame.</p><p>“<em>Better late than never,</em>” Diana grumbled as she retrieved her book.</p><p>Barda dropped a breakfast tray on the side table and marched across the floor, making the boards tremor until she loomed over her charge.</p><p>Diana tried to avoid the maid’s dark gaze but that was hard to do when you were cornered by a giant.</p><p>It was like she could hear Barda’s deep voice in every silent second hissing, <em>coward</em>, <em>coward</em>, <em>COWARD</em>!</p><p>“What is it?!?” Diana barked.</p><p>Barda didn’t blink. Rough calluses scraped unblemished palms, as she took the damaged book from Diana’s hands.</p><p>“Take better care of your things.”</p><p>Diana watched slack-jawed as Barda left her room, book in hand, black ponytail swinging in time with her gait.</p><p>Diana had grown up royalty, surrounded by servants and subordinates, and was no stranger to giving orders, orders she took for granted would be obeyed. Apart from Fadeela, whom she had seen as an extension of Nura, no servant would’ve ever spoken so directly, so bluntly, to their mistress. But once again, Barda proved the exception.</p><p>Suddenly she got the feeling that Barda was just humoring her when she obeyed, that there was a motivation to her that Diana couldn’t see, and perhaps shouldn’t want to.</p><p>Still in shock Diana limped out of her room and wandered downstairs to the parlor.</p><p>She found it there, sitting neatly on the ottoman where <em>he</em> had left it.</p><p>Sitting gingerly on the sofa Diana picked up one of the beautifully carved pieces. It was supposed to be the knight, but it was carved in the image of a huntress drawing her bow, Artemis.</p><p>She rolled the figure between her fingers, feeling every groove and niche.</p><p>He had brought it to her the day after she fell……A late birthday gift he’d said……a sign of his support of her winning against Alfred. She hadn’t even been able to look him in the eye.</p><p>He’d tried to talk to her for hours, asking about her lessons, updating her on his life, he’d even mentioned <em>her, </em>his fiancée.</p><p>He’d spoken of plays and poetry, practiced his Arabic, all the while she’d done her best to remain cold and distant. Then the worst of all happened, he asked if she was missing home.</p><p>How could he ask that? As if he didn’t know, didn’t understand! He’d lost his family too, he knew that pain, knew how even in your happiest moments it would arise just to destroy it, and at your lowest would be the fire that consumed. Of course, she missed her family, and now, when she was just managing to finally obtain a new one when things, at last, seemed to fall into place, the one person she counted on, the one person who knew her best, the only one she could be fully honest with had left! She loved <em>him</em> and he was leaving her behind.</p><p>But all she said was yes…yes, I miss home.</p><p>He’d looked at her with such pity and compassion that she’d burst into tears, tears of frustration at being misunderstood but not knowing how to explain. He’d hugged her, given her a handkerchief to dry her eyes, and said, <em>patience princess, you have more than you think</em>.</p><p>“No Bruce, I don’t.”</p><p>Diana sat the chess piece down and twirled her cane in her hands.</p><p>Her injury had in many ways been a blessing. It had gotten her out of visiting Wayne Castle, though she missed Alfred desperately, she was grateful to not have to risk seeing Bruce. It had also gotten her out of attending the wedding. Truth be told she could have gone, physically, but no one fought her excuses that it hurt too much to hobble around with a cane for so long. So, they’d left, and she stayed behind, alone.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>10:30 AM Wayne Castle, Kent England May 22, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Bruce</em>
</p><p>“Only took you 26 years but you finally managed to settle down!”</p><p>Oliver slapped his friend on the back. He held the flask out to Clark who declined. Oliver just shrugged his shoulders and took a quick sip.</p><p>Clark and Bruce shared a knowing look at their friend’s antics. Thank God Oliver wasn’t as dense as he presented himself to be, though sometimes he did make them wonder.</p><p>“The carriage is ready Sir.” The three looked over at the Waynes’ faithful guardian, who was smartly dressed in one of Bruce’s father’s old morning suits. Bruce had offered to buy him a new one, but the steely butler would not hear of it, replying that <em>somethings are better old than new</em>.</p><p>“Thank you, Alfred.” Bruce nodded “Oh, did Selina get her gift?”</p><p>“Yes, Master Bruce, I delivered it myself.”</p><p>“Yourself? You didn’t need to do that, why did we bother hiring a bloody army’s worth of staff if you weren’t going to use them?” Bruce asked.</p><p>The elder gentleman straightened, even more, making Clark and Oliver notice his resemblance to a bean pole.</p><p>“They were hired Sir because it is how things are done. The reception especially must be fully equipped. There will soon be a lady in residence, and she will not find the dignity of Wayne Castle lacking, not while there is breath in my body. Errand boys, however, were not on the list of hires. Wouldn’t trust some whippersnapper with the mistress’s things, the very idea!”</p><p>“Alright Alfred, no errand boys.”</p><p>“Quite right Sir.”</p><p>“Still, you shouldn’t have had to run across town when you’re so busy Alfred, I could’ve delivered it for you.” Clark offered smiling.</p><p>The butler looked like he had been slapped in the face. Oliver fell into a chair laughing as Clark hung his head at Alfred’s disapproving look.</p><p>“I also have a message for Master Oliver from Miss Dinah. She says if he does not come downstairs immediately then he will be sitting with the Hales <em>alone</em> during the service.”</p><p>Like a shot Oliver was out of his chair and charging through the door, hollering for Dinah not to leave him behind.</p><p>“Did she really say that?” Clark asked warily.</p><p>“Loose lips sink ships, Master Clark.” Alfred’s demeanor remained dignified, but his eyes twinkled with mischief.</p><p>“Thank you, Alfred.” Bruce smiled warmly.</p><p>In a moment Alfred transformed from the Duke’s dignified butler to the caring father figure he had been all those years ago when the man standing before him had been a shy little boy who was afraid of the dark and had trouble making friends.</p><p>“I thought you might like to wear this today.”</p><p>Alfred held out a well-brushed black silk top hat.</p><p>“It was your father’s; he wore it on his wedding day,” Alfred commented softly, mist gathering in his weathered eyes. “I had it resized, just in case.”</p><p>Bruce felt a lump form in his throat as he looked at the hat. A wealth of words and meanings he could not begin to say washed over him, but one look at the unbending man before him and it no longer mattered, he already knew.</p><p>He took the hat.</p><p>Pulling on his cuffs Alfred Pennyworth clipped his heels, gave a slow respectful bow, and left for his post at the church. He wouldn’t have missed this day for anything in the world.</p><p>“It’s nearly time to go, are you ready?” Clark asked, keeping a close eye on the time as every good best man should.</p><p>“Almost.” Bruce turned back to the mirror, adjusting the white carnation in his buttonhole, being sure it was not crushed against his lapel.</p><p>“How’s Diana doing?” he asked as he finished with the flower and began putting on his gloves.</p><p>“Her ankle is still not healed, I’m sorry she couldn’t be at the wedding,” Clark replied.</p><p>Bruce nodded, he was disappointed she was not coming, but he was sure such a large social gathering would have been daunting to her and so felt he understood.</p><p>“Clark, do feel she is adjusting well?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“To England, to your family, to learning how to navigate a new world.”</p><p>Clark laughed and waved away his friend’s concerns.</p><p>“Believe me, Diana’s completely acclimated. Why, if not for that accent of hers, you’d never know she’d ever been anywhere else, and even that has faded.”</p><p>Bruce raised an eyebrow at how his friend said ‘been’.</p><p>
  <em>She hadn’t "been" to the market Clark, she <span class="u">lived</span> in another country, another culture, she was raised with it in her bones, that’s not going to go away.</em>
</p><p>“Give it enough time and she may be pronouncing her vowels like the Queen herself.”</p><p>“With a German accent.”</p><p>Clark beamed as he took in the rarity of Bruce Wayne making a joke. Even the man himself had to smirk at how awestruck Clark looked.</p><p>“Anyway, this is your wedding day Bruce! There is only one thing you need to be concerned with today, at that is the fact that if we don’t leave now, you’ll be late.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>11:00 AM St. Margaret’s Church, Gotham, Kent England May 22, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Isabel Hale</em>
</p><p>Isabel jerked her head back and forth, trying to see exactly who all was there as entered the church.</p><p><em>The Anglican cathedral would have been a more suitable location</em>, she thought.</p><p><em>That way all the important guests that are supposed to attend a Duke’s wedding been invited</em>.</p><p>“Catholics.” Isabel sneered.</p><p>That was why they were crowded into the much smaller, less grand, and honestly inconvenient catholic church venue.</p><p>Even though the church was packed, few of the ancient nobility were in attendance, excluding the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk of course. The missing persons having politely, but resoundingly, declined the popish service.</p><p>The Hales too might have protested the invitation on principle, but Isabel was never one to waste an opportunity at networking.</p><p>She was still frustrated that, though technically she had married into the distant parameters, she had never been able to break into the Lennox family barricade; now having expanded to include Chatsworths, Kents, Lanes, Queens, Lances, and the last Princeton.</p><p>Yes, if Isabel were to ever gather the political clout her husband deserved, she needed to infiltrate this closely guarded family sphere, and where better to advance this agenda than the wedding of their closest friends, the Waynes.</p><p>With a clear focus, Isabel went back to sizing up the gathering. The bride’s family, though not insignificant, were of no concern as their main pull rested in the religious sector.</p><p>She could see the groom’s Kane relations were here. She must try getting close to Nathan’s new wife. The Kanes may not have been titled, but they had plenty of money to make up for it, old money! And their reputation for philanthropy didn’t hurt either.</p><p>There were several guests of the lower nobility and upper middling sort present, clearly connections from the Duke’s school days or business associations.</p><p>Isabel noticed that, excepting the immediate Randle family, the bride’s section was completely void of guests and some of the overflow from the groom’s side were spilling into the empty pews.</p><p><em>Odd</em>, she thought. Even given the rumors that the girl had lived a secluded existence Isabel had expected at least a school chum or two. Even a former Nanny or poor relation would do, but no, nothing.</p><p>Turning back to the groom’s side she continued her work.</p><p>And there sat the biggest prize of all! The Countess of Lonworth sitting next to her mother-in-law, Martha Lennox. If she could get Lois Lane on her side, then that was a direct link.</p><p>Isabel craned her neck to get a better view and what luck, she turned around.</p><p>My but she wasn’t aging well at all! Her skin was quite pale, and her face had a distinctly haggard appearance. To think Isabel had once been jealous of Lois’s looks! Well, the shoe was certainly on the other foot now. Isabel checked to be sure her new bonnet was secure and tilted her head demurely as she caught another guest admiring her milliner’s creation.</p><p>Elliot had located their seats and motioned for his wife to sit first.</p><p>Isabel’s fingers twitched greedily when she saw the Marquess and Marchioness of Rolland already seated in the pew. It seemed they were the only representatives of the Queen family, his parents appearing to be absent, which made her and Elliot the highest-ranking guests in attendance!</p><p>Flashing her most charming smile she took her seat next to Oliver. He greeted them civilly enough, though he hardly went out of his way, his wife just gave Elliot a stiff nod before turning to stare straight ahead at the pulpit!</p><p>She grit her teeth. <em>You cannot ignore me now, Dinah Lance, I am the Duchess of Hever.</em></p><p>Isabel felt the hollowness of her victory. She had the title true, but none of the trappings that went along with it.</p><p>Old Zachary Princeton had never warmed to his cousin and so hadn’t changed his will.</p><p>Elliot’s father had been a practical reverend who never wanted the title of Duke and so left the estates and wealth untouched. But after five long years, Elliot had finally assumed the title, and Isabel quit stalling their engagement.</p><p>Then some vanished child had appeared from the depths claiming to be Zachary Princeton’s daughter and the whole business was thrown up in the air before Isabel even had a chance to set foot through the door.</p><p>And who was the culprit for this ridiculous delay in granting what was rightfully hers? Battling the legal system in the name of deceased senile eccentric and some heathen raised barbaric child? None other than the man to her left, Oliver Queen.</p><p><em>Shush</em> someone hissed, “It’s starting!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>11:15 AM St. Margaret’s Church, Gotham, Kent England May 22, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Selina </em>
</p><p>The Music began to play, Uncle Sebastian offered her his arm, the doors opened, and all eyes turned to see her.</p><p>This was her moment, her wedding, she was the center of attention.</p><p>But as she made her way up the aisle, all the spectators and pomp fell away. Waiting for her at the end he stood, tall, handsome, and calm. Black hair perfectly slicked back and kind blue eyes that watched only her. This was it, the moment when everything went right, from this day on she would never be alone.</p><p>
  <em>It’s you and me pretty boy, just you and me.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>11:30 AM St. Margaret’s Church, Gotham, Kent England May 22, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—The Wedding </em>
</p><p>The Bride wore a white satin dress trimmed with lace and orange blossoms, and a gorgeous pearl and diamond necklace hung around her neck. Her gaze veil was anchored by a crown of orange blossoms and myrtle leaves, leaving her face exposed, she carried a bouquet of white lilies.</p><p>The Bridesmaids followed in matching white dresses with blue sashes and carrying smaller lily bouquets.</p><p>The Groom, Bestman, and Bride’s Uncle were all dressed in morning coats and top hats.</p><p>A glittering assembly of Gotham’s finest and the highest nobility watched on as the couple said their vows and the Bride received a wedding band of Welsh gold.</p><p>The new Duke and Duchess exited the church under a rain of wheat tossed by well-wishers and were cheered by crowds as they rode in an open carriage to Wayne Castle for the reception.</p><p>That is how the papers would describe it, a perfect fairy tale come true, and they would be right.</p><p>But, as the gaggle of guests and carriages left the church and made their way to the Castle no one noticed one man in an old-fashioned suit walking away from the flowing crowd.</p><p>He climbed into a simple trap, clicked his tongue, and started the horse down the road.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>3:00 PM Riverfoot Hall, Kent England May 22, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Diana</em>
</p><p>Diana lined up her shot, laying flat on the sofa she got as low as she could, everything had to be perfectly aligned.</p><p>
  <em>Steady, and go!</em>
</p><p>Taking the end of her cane she hit the lined-up chess pieces one by one in quick succession. They flew off the ottoman and Diana began lining up the next row.</p><p>“<em>Ahem</em>.” The Kents’ butler coughed from the parlor doorway.</p><p>“Getting a cold Desmond?” Diana did not even raise her head as she once again punched her opponents over with the cane.</p><p>Desmond narrowed his eyes at the teenager who hadn’t moved from the sofa since noon and was once again missing her shoes.</p><p>“You have a visitor, my lady, Mr. Pennyworth is at the door and requests your presence.”</p><p>Immediately Diana rolled over and scrambled to get off the sofa. She made much less impressive speed once on her feet as her injury was still a hindrance. It didn’t take long for her to get frustrated over her own slowness and Desmond had to restrain himself from shaking his head as the impatient girl began hopping towards the door, using her cane more as an oar than a crutch.</p><p>When the wobbling disaster had finally vacated the parlor, the butler took a look around and let out an exasperated groan before beginning to clean up the destruction.</p><p>“First the cracked bedroom door, then breaking her ankle, and now she’s turned a cane into a weapon. Why does the Dowager let those children run wild?”</p><p>Desmond grumbled as he strained over his girth to pick up some of the discarded chess pieces, marveling at how someone could treat such an expensive gift this way.</p><p>“That girl needs to learn to control her temper.”</p><p>He grabbed the decapitated body of Helen of Troy and felt his ire growing at the sight of her beautiful head resting in the cold ashes of the fireplace.</p><p>“Unrefined, temperamental, plain inconsiderate, and downright spoiled. This is marble, how did she even break this! <em>Ugh</em>, Lady Diana what is wrong with you?”</p><p>“She lacks focus.” A deep voice said.</p><p>“BARDA!”</p><p>Desmond’s puffy face turned Scarlet at the sight of Barda standing cross-armed in the doorway. Her normally stoic face glared at him and Desmond felt fear twist a knot in the pit of his stomach.</p><p>Her dark skin glistened with sweat and he could see the muscles tense beneath her sleeves. Why was she so muscular? Surely a maid’s work wasn’t enough to give someone that physique.</p><p>Barda continued to eye him suspiciously but seemed to decide he wasn’t a threat and relaxed her stance. But he couldn’t fully relax while that foreign colossus continued to watch him, what did she want? Oh, wait!</p><p> “The Lady is in the front yard, with Mr. Pennyworth.”</p><p>That must’ve been what she was waiting for, with the slightest nod Barda left the room and Desmond let out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding.</p><p>“Troublesome woman, do you even have any people? Must be why she talks so little, so no one can decipher that strange accent of hers.”</p><p>While Desmond struggled Diana met her guest at the door. Though delighted, she was apprehensive as to why Alfred was here, shouldn’t he be at the wedding? But any fears or misgivings vanished upon opening the door and seeing the dear man’s softly smiling face.</p><p>“Lady Diana, would you do me the pleasure of joining me for a picnic on the lawn?”</p><p>Before she could answer Alfred handed her an old blanket and began walking toward the far edge of the clearing, careful to not walk too fast for her to keep up with her cane.</p><p>Half an hour later Diana was sitting comfortably on the blanket enjoy her sandwich as Alfred refilled Barda’s tea, she had joined them almost immediately and was sitting a respectful distance away like a sentry. Her maid’s near-constant presence had become so familiar that Diana hardly even noticed she was there.</p><p>“There now, care for any more tea, <em>Your Highness</em>?”</p><p>“No thank you.”</p><p>They sat in comfortable silence while they finished their sandwiches. But a dread wouldn’t stop gnawing at her thoughts.</p><p>“Um, Alfred…why are you here?”</p><p>The older gentleman didn’t answer but instead continued to drink his tea. Diana waited nervously until he sat the cup down and looked at her kindly. She felt her emotions threatening to overtake her and she looked away from his all-knowing gaze.</p><p>He seemed to understand and showed no offense at her aversion.</p><p>“I thought you could use a friend.”</p><p>That did it, tears burned as she rubbed her eyes furiously. He waited patiently for her to collect herself and when she had poured them both another cup of tea. She was beginning to believe the English found tea the solution to everything, but she accepted the cup with gratitude and they again sat in silence.</p><p>“Have you ever been in love Alfred?”</p><p>His cup froze just below his perfect pencil mustache. He breathed in slowly and closed his eyes, allowing the steam waft over his face before lowering the cup back to the saucer and watching quietly as a bird flew overhead.</p><p>Diana was scared to breathe, afraid she would interrupt whatever spell had settled over him, and even Barda’s rigid form appeared to lean a little closer to hear the answer.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>His voice did not sound sad nor nostalgic, just, peaceful.</p><p>“When did you stop?”</p><p>The corners of his mouth twitched up as he continued to watch the wonders of nature above him.</p><p>“I didn’t.”</p><p>Diana looked at him surprised, did Alfred have a lady love somewhere? Immediately her imagination began to concoct a fantasy of reunited lost love and a picture of this kind gentleman enjoying a lovely life of marital bliss. As if sensing her thoughts, his gentle eyes turned back to her and she read in them at once that she was wrong and such a thing could never be.</p><p>“I’m so sorry.” She whispered.</p><p>His thin black eyebrows lifted in surprise and he shook his head slightly, the late afternoon sun dancing over his balding head.</p><p>“No, my dear, never be sorry for such things. It is a matter of choice <em>whom</em> we love, but once you have given your heart away, you never truly get it back. And caring for another is never worthy of regret.”</p><p>Diana fiddled with her cane, not sure what to make of his words. A breeze blew and she felt she could almost smell the salty scent of faraway seas. She gave a shaky breath and felt a headache begin to throb behind her eyes. Her senses felt overwhelmed, she just did not understand, how could she not wish this pain away? She wanted a distraction.</p><p>“Tell me then. Who did you love?”</p><p>It came out harsher than she intended. She worried he might be hurt, Dinah had told her she should be more considerate in her words, but instead of getting angry, he appeared as if he had only been waiting for her to ask.</p><p>This time he sat his cup to the side, sat up a little straighter, and check his collar as if even in memory he must treat this person with the highest respect.</p><p>“My father worked at the castle as a gardener during the time of Master Bruce’s Grandparents. When I was twelve my father got me a job working with him in the gardens. I enjoyed the work and wanted to continue, but he had higher ambitions for me. So, when an opening appeared in the kitchens, he put me forward. That is how I met her. They needed more footmen for a party, and I was chosen. While serving the supper I accidentally dropped a tray of partridge pies. The butler was furious and banished me back down to the kitchen. But I’d never before seen a ball, and more than anything I yearned to hear the heavenly music. So, I snuck onto the open balcony of the ballroom, hid in a corner, and listened to the gorgeous sounds while I watched the stars.”</p><p>Alfred smiled longingly.</p><p>“That’s when she came out on the balcony. I was going to leave before she saw me but, a reel started to play, and, for some reason, I’ll never understand, she began to dance, all by herself under the stars, waving a blue fan. How could anyone leave such a sight? Middle of the song she saw me, I tried to run but she grabbed my hand and the next thing I knew we were dancing, the footman and the lady.”</p><p>He closed his eyes waiting as if he were listening for the violins to play again.</p><p>“Life has a way of changing all of us. As the years passed, she became reserved, keeping her emotions tightly in check. But that night I saw the carefree beautiful soul that few would ever know, and I will always be grateful. After the song ended, she asked me my name. We talked for some time, but when the music died, I knew the magic had ended and we must go our separate ways. As we said goodbye, she told me that she was glad she’d come to the party, because she’d gained a friend. She visited the Waynes many times over the years, and every time she sought me out, never missing the chance to catch up. When my father died, she was the first to write, I don’t even know how she’d found out. Once I saw her on the street in London, she was with some very prestigious people and so I tried to not be seen, so as not to embarrass anyone.”</p><p>He laughed softly.</p><p>“I should’ve known better than to try and hide. She stopped the carriage, climbed out, and ran across the street to greet me. I could see the flabbergasted expressions behind her and I tried to tell her to go back, that she need not worry about me when she had important guests to tend to. The hurt in her eyes is one of my greatest regrets. In an unyielding voice, she told me that, <em>no one was more important than a friend</em>.”</p><p>“Did you marry her?” Diana asked wide-eyed.</p><p>Alfred looked at her sorrowfully, but she sensed his sorrow was not for himself.</p><p>“Nothing would have made me happier, but she never saw me in that way. She married, twice, but not to me. She did not need a lover; she needed a friend. And so, I was, from the first day we met until the last because I loved her. My beautiful, dark-haired, grey-eyed lady. My friend. Love is not confined to one form. When you love someone, you do so in whatever capacity you are allowed, and it is never lessened by it. The love of a friend is just as strong as the love of a spouse.”</p><p>The world seemed to hush, the birds were silent, the breeze stilled, even the clouds held back, listening.</p><p>Diana blinked at him.</p><p>Gently, Alfred reached over and raised her arm so that the bracelet he had given her was in her sight. With a tap, he spun the pendent and the sun sparkled against the engraving.</p><p> “She gave me that, a long time ago, when she was scared and needed help. It was the last thing in the world she owned, she asked me to sell it, but I knew how much it meant to her, and I couldn’t do it. I got her what money she needed, but when I tried to return her bracelet she wouldn’t take it.” <em>Everything is gone Affie, please don’t return what little I can give</em>.</p><p>A sweet smile settled on his face as he watched the pendent swing, seeing a time long gone.</p><p>“What was her name?”</p><p>Alfred looked up at her and pointed to the initial engraved on the now still pendent.</p><p>“Diana…Diana Lily…your grandmother, and the bravest woman I ever knew.”</p><p>Diana’s jaw dropped and she looked at the dignified butler with new eyes.</p><p>Her grandmother? Alfred had been in love with her grandmother?</p><p>“There’s a lot of her in you, a bit of Hippolyta and Zachary too, and I imagine a great deal of your mother and sister as well. But never forget, though you share a great deal with those from your past they do not define who you are. You were given life so you could live it, it is up to you to decide how.”</p><p>As if he’d said all there was to say Alfred began to pack up the basket and held out a hand to help her stand.</p><p>Her head was spinning as she held on to his hand just a moment longer.</p><p>“But what do I do Alfred?”</p><p>He patted her hand reassuringly.</p><p>“Love isn’t about what you get Diana, it’s what you give.”</p><p>With that he bowed, took the basket in one hand, the blanket in the other, and walked back towards the trap that waited for his return, it was time to go.</p><p>Diana was still thinking about his words that night while she lay in bed, staring up at the canopy, begging it for answers.</p><p>
  <em>I love him…so what do I do?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Though you share a great deal with those from your past they do not define who you are.</em>
</p><p>Was he saying to not be like her grandmother? To not ignore love as she seemed to have done?</p><p>The wind whistled outside her window, signaling another storm coming. Diana covered her ears with a pillow, trying to ignore it.</p><p>
  <em>Why should I have to give up? Why is she the right one for you and not me?</em>
</p><p>Lightning flashed across the sky and she bolted up.</p><p>
  <em>Love is about what you give. Wait, is that what he meant?</em>
</p><p>Curling her fingers into fists she hardened her resolve.</p><p>
  <em>Alright then, I will be your friend, no matter what I will be there for you. And maybe one day, one day you'll change your mind, and I'll be there.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>She was so sure, so confident that all she needed to do was wait and he would see, that he needed her too.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 22: The Bells Ring in Rome</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The song used in this chapter is a sea shanty called Spanish Ladies.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 22: The Bells Ring in Rome</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>12:00 AM, Rome, Italy June 17, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Bruce &amp; Selina </em>
</p><p>Eyes blinked through the holes, blue ones, brown ones, gray, red, green.</p><p>        </p><p>No faces.</p><p>                         No people.</p><p>                                                                                  Just eyes.</p><p> </p><p>A familiar voice whispered in his ears. <em>Penny for your thoughts?</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Cold sweat ran down his face, into his eyes. It burned, why did it burn?</p><p> </p><p>The eyes blinked faster as his vision blurred, and the floor began to sink beneath his feet.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Where are you going?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                                 Why aren’t you running? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>                                                                         Did you forget to close the door? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>One should always close the door…my silly boy.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>On and on they laughed.</p><p> </p><p>                    They cried.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>                                                                                                                        Such a silly, silly, boy.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The lights went dark and the eyes grew quiet.</p><p>His face sunk in, the burning flowed down his cheeks, into his mouth, scalding his throat. He wanted some ice cream; ice cream would fix it. Yes, that would be nice…</p><p> </p><p>The darkness laid over him, a blanket weighing him down.</p><p> </p><p><em>Sweet Summer Prince,</em> his mother's voice whispered, <em>Penny for your thoughts? </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>PPPPPPenny for your thoughts? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>P-P-Penny for you? nO. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Penny. For. YouR? thOUghTZZZZ???</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Pennyforyourthoughtspennyforyourthoughtspennyforyourthoughtspennyforyourthoughtsssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>…Quiet now…</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Penny.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>         Penny. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>                   NO DON’T!!!</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>                        BANG!</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Bruce's eyes snapped open.</p><p> </p><p>A warm breeze brushed his cheek as the ceiling came into focus. Bruce grunted as he sat up and leaned against the headboard, running a hand down his face.</p><p>Just one night, he just wanted one night of dull, dead, uninterrupted sleep. Was that too much to ask? But no, he just had to dream. </p><p> </p><p>A disgruntled moan brought him back as the body next to him stirred. He looked down and a pair of bright emerald orbs stared curiously back.</p><p>“Do you ever sleep Bat?”</p><p>He gently brushed an inky curl out of her face and kissed her forehead.</p><p>“Go back to sleep, it’s still dark out.”</p><p>She closed her eyes again and he waited till her breathing returned its relaxed rhythm before getting up and walking quietly across the room to where the open balcony doors looked over the sleeping city of Rome.</p><p>Taking a deep breath he felt his heart calm as the peaceful night air filled his lungs. He pulled up a straight back chair and sat to watch the view.</p><p>“You really are stubborn, aren’t you?”</p><p>Bruce turned back to the bed. Selina sat crouched on her knees with a coy smile on her lips as she let the loose sheet fall away. Bruce instinctively turned away blushing, and her low laugh made his ears burn red.</p><p>“Oh, now you’re shy? Well, lucky me, a man and a gentleman.”</p><p>She came up behind him and wrapped her arms over his shoulders and brushed her cheek against his.</p><p>“Can’t sleep? What’s wrong Bruce?” she whispered in his ear and he smiled at the faint scent of perfume that still clung to her.</p><p>“It’s nothing.” He pulled her hand away from his shoulder, turning her palm to his lips he kissed it. “You should get some sleep.”</p><p>Her hand was motionless in his, but when he again tried to kiss her palms soft skin she pulled away and walked past him and onto the balcony.</p><p>Bruce looked at her, with her back to him. There was a slap of cold air against his bare back where her warm body had just been.</p><p>“You’ll be tired in the morning if you don’t rest.”</p><p>It was uneasy having her back to him, he could not tell what she was thinking.</p><p>“Don’t you know Cats are nocturnal too?”</p><p>Bruce felt his unease disappear at the sound of her laughing tone. Next thing he knew she had come back and was sitting on his lap, pressing a kiss to his lips, which he returned.</p><p>Sighing and satisfied Selina leaned against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Bruce placed a hand on the leg she’d draped over his to be sure she wouldn’t fall. They sat watching the stars.</p><p>“I love it here Bruce. I don’t ever want to leave.”</p><p>“We can always come back, Selina.”</p><p>“When?”</p><p>“Someday, I promise. My father brought me here as a boy. I’ve always wanted to show my children the Colosseum as he did.”</p><p>“Children?”</p><p>“<em>Mhmm</em>, what, think I’m not cut out for it?”</p><p>“No, just surprised you’d given so much thought.”</p><p>“What about you? Have you thought about it?”</p><p>“I’ve never really thought much about the future…”</p><p>It got quiet for a moment. Selina took his hand laid their palms together, watching as her hand was dwarfed within his.</p><p>“So, Mister Wayne, what would you like to name this future child?”</p><p>Bruce began to trace the veins on the back of her hand with his finger.</p><p>“I don’t know…something like Stephanie, or maybe Cassandra.”</p><p>He kissed her neck, and she closed her eyes, laying her head back and to the side.</p><p>“A girl? Don’t most men want sons?”</p><p>“What’s wrong with girls?”</p><p>“Girls are too petty; they have to be. A boy you can raise honest.”</p><p> He laughed and pressed a kiss to her temple.</p><p>A bell tolled one. Bruce grimaced.</p><p>“Bit loud.”</p><p>“What is?”</p><p>“The bells, can’t you hear it?”</p><p>He felt her slim shoulders shrug against his chest.</p><p>“I didn’t hear anything.”</p><p>A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.</p><p>“So, Cats are also deaf I see.”</p><p>She rewarded him with another deep laugh, he loved that sound. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and buried his face in her disheveled hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Sing me something Bat.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Bruce pulled his head up and rested his chin atop her head, once again turning his gaze out to the stars.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish ladies,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain; </em>
</p><p>
  <em>For we've received orders </em>
</p><p>
  <em>For to sail to old England,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And we may never see you fair ladies again.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Selina nuzzled deeper into his embrace and closed her eyes.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“We'll rant and we'll roar, like true British sailors,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>We'll rant and we'll roar along the salt seas; </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Until we strike soundings</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In the Channel of old England,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>From Ushant to Scilly, it's thirty-five leagues.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 23: For Whose Queen and Country?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>According to the internet, the phrase "Be still my beating heart" originated in 1705.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 23: For Whose Queen and Country?</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>10:00 AM, Riverfoot Hall, Kent England June 19, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—The Girls</em>
</p><p>“Kara hurry up! We’re going to be late if you don’t—”</p><p>Diana pushed open the door and the trio gaped in shock at the complete disaster before them and the little blonde miss who seemed completely unconcerned standing in the middle of said garbage heap.</p><p>“What on earth, you call this a room! You can’t even get to the bed!!!” Barbara bellowed while Lucy let out a quiet “Oh my,” behind her.</p><p>Kara crossed her arms and raised her chin proudly in the air.</p><p>“Don’t be so dramatic Babs, I’ll be down for lessons as soon as I find my slate.”</p><p>“Can you find the floor? <em>OW!</em>”</p><p>Diana gave Barbara a quick jab to the ribs.</p><p>“We’re late enough already, we’ll help you look.”</p><p>“I don’t need any help; you’ll just disturb my things and then I won’t be able to find them again.”</p><p>“Isn’t that the current problem?”</p><p>Kare gave her cousin a withering look but Diana ignored her and began sorting through the rubbish, Barbara, and Lucy begrudgingly following suit.</p><p>“Really Caroline this isn’t sanitary.” Barbara cringed as she delicately tossed a half-eaten sandwich towards Diana’s side of the room.</p><p>“It’s called being resourceful <em>Barbara</em>, you never know when you’ll need a light snack!”</p><p>“Indeed,” Barbara remarked as she started suspiciously rummaging through a pile of dirty clothes with her shoe.</p><p>“Great Hera! I’ve been looking everywhere for this, why is my lace handkerchief in your room?”</p><p>“How do you know it’s yours?”</p><p>“It has my initials on it, <em>Kara</em>.”</p><p>“Lots of words start with D, <em>Diana</em>.”</p><p>“<em>Hmm</em>, well let’s just see what else of mine has walked across the hall.”</p><p>Diana began tearing through the mess with a vengeance while Lucy tried to carefully thread her way to the desk without disturbing anything and Barbara begin to use this search and rescue mission as an excuse to delve into Kara’s psyche.</p><p>“Why do you keep half of this junk? Look, two stockings with holes, one white, one black. Where are you planning to wear them, the Zebra exhibit?” Remarked Barbara.</p><p>“Possibly!” snapped Kara, snatching the stockings, and hugging them to her chest.</p><p>“Ah! This pen is mine, and these music sheets, three coat buttons—”</p><p>“A straw bonnet with no back…and it’s bent. What purpose does this serve?”</p><p>Kara grabbed the squashed hat from the redhead. “I’m going to make it into a collar for Mrs. Lane’s pug, so he won’t bite his fleas!”</p><p>“My hair ribbon, my earing, Clark’s stuffed rabbit—”</p><p>“Hey! Do not do that rollie thing with your tongue. RRRRRaa—bat, it’s distracting!”</p><p>“Care to explain why you have a copy of Fordyce’s Sermons? You don’t read.”</p><p>“I can read.”</p><p>“But you don’t.”</p><p>“<em>Gasp</em> Aunt Martha’s Sunday shawl! <em>Oooo</em> Ka—Rrrrrrrrrah.”</p><p>“You’re disturbing my THINGS!”</p><p>“Where did you even <em>get</em> a monocle?”</p><p>“Stop asking questions, Babs!”</p><p>“Here’s my boot, the one with the broken heel, actually you can keep that.”</p><p>Diana tossed the shoe back over her head and Kara dove for it like a nugget of gold.</p><p>“You know Caroline this habit probably speaks of a much deeper neurosis.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“The Achilles from my chest set and Helen of Troy’s head…why just the head?”</p><p>“Your obsession with useless objects and pilfering of others rejects shows an inability to detach from your surroundings.”</p><p>“Again what?”</p><p>“Why didn’t you take her body too?”</p><p>“If you don’t learn to control these impulses, dear Kara, then you may risk your neurosis swinging in the opposite direction and find yourself unable to feel an attachment towards anything.”</p><p>“Seriously was that English?”</p><p>“I mean did you just forget it or is it buried in here somewhere?”</p><p>“You know what Babs; I don’t think YOU even know what you’re talking about. And Diana it’s supposed to be the head of Medusa and I thought that was Perseus.”</p><p>“Oh, that makes sense, but still, MINE!”</p><p>“In simpler words Caroline.” Barbara picked up an old tennis racket with cut strings and began swinging it through the air. “You’re like a crow, you see something shiny, you take it—"</p><p>“Well, look at that! <em>My</em> crocket mallet—”</p><p>“Then you bring said treasures back to your nest—”</p><p>“Let’s see what’s under the bed shall we!”</p><p>“And add it to the rest of the junk.”</p><p>“Ow!”</p><p>Diana’s long legs kicked Lucy as she burrowed further under the bed, but she did call out a semi-muffled “sorry”.</p><p>As if proving her point Barbara let the broken racket drop back into the abyss and gave the little blonde a confident smile. Meanwhile, Kara stared back unimpressed with one eyebrow cocked and a clear, <em>that is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard</em>, message radiating from her tiny being.</p><p>“First of all, <em>Professor Gordon</em>, I was going to restring that racket into a guitar, but now you’ve lost it. And secondly, it’s not junk it’s a collection.”</p><p>“It’s hoarding.”</p><p>“No one asked you Di!”</p><p>“You know it could stand to be a bit more organized Kara.”</p><p>“<em>Et Tu Luce?</em>”</p><p>“Wait, are those my ice skates!”</p><p>“Alright, you know what’s happening here? You all are just trying to find an excuse to criticize. What did I ever do to any of you?”</p><p>“Yesterday you said Lucy was the walking equivalent of a glass of warm water without any of the excitement.”</p><p>“…<em>damn you Gordon</em>…Ok that’s fair. Lucy is justified but the rest of you, <em>PETTY!</em>”</p><p>“I FOUND IT!”</p><p>There was a torrent of dust bunnies and the screeching of bedposts as Diana fought her way out from under the bed. Raising her victor’s spoils high above her head she called out in a triumphant voice.</p><p>“I FOUND THE SLATE!”</p><p>Just as others began to cheer the door opened and a dismayed Desmond looked over the carnage. Heaving a defeated sigh, he shook his head, as if nothing mattered to him anymore, he had truly seen too much to ever be fazed again.</p><p>“Young ladies, it is past time for you to begin your lessons.”</p><p>“Coming Desmond.”</p><p>“Thank you, Miss Gordon.”</p><p>“Sorry Desmond. I’m just going to grab my skates and——um——actually I can come back for these later.”</p><p>“That would be best Lady Diana.”</p><p>“This wasn’t my fault, honest this time.”</p><p>“Duly noted Lady Caroline.”</p><p>The butler waited for them to exit and then closed the door soundly behind.</p><p>“Ah, Miss Lucy, forgive me but it seems your mother has neglected to send the carriage for you, <em>again</em>.”</p><p>Diana’s ears perked up at the butler’s condescending tone.</p><p>“That’s alright Mr. Desmond, I enjoy the walk.”</p><p>“Good, you should be running along then.”</p><p>Desmond turned and descended the stairs, not seeing the 5’10 fury reaching to drag him back by the collar. But an angel intervened on his behalf. A thin little hand grabbed her arm and patted it comfortingly.</p><p>“It’s ok Diana.”</p><p>Diana turned from her friend’s sincere face back to the stairs, but Desmond was already gone. Barbara and Kara too were disappearing as they made their way to the classroom on the ground floor.</p><p>“Really, it’s ok.”</p><p>“No Lucy, it’s not. He is a snob! And he cannot treat you like that. This is Aunt Martha’s house, and you are a guest here, my friend, no one should be allowed to—to—to <em>Ugh</em> what word in English? Well, I don’t know the word, but you are important!”</p><p>Lucy’s blue eyes looked back earnestly and suddenly the younger girl enveloped the elder in a fierce hug, which Diana, confused, returned.</p><p>When Lucy let go her expression had returned to a picture of lady-like grace, but there was a twinkle in her eye.</p><p>“I need to be going now, mother will be expecting me.”</p><p>The two made their way down the steps and towards the front door.</p><p>“Ok, but you will be back for tea this afternoon, won’t you? Mrs. Church and Lady Asquith will be visiting, and your mother too.”</p><p>“Yes, I’ll be back. Goodbye Diana.”</p><p>“Goodbye.”</p><p>She waved as she watched her friend leave and watched her grow smaller in the distance as she walked towards the road.</p><p>“Oh, no lessons!”</p><p>Diana slammed the door and ran off towards the schoolroom.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>12:00 PM, Riverfoot Hall, Kent England June 19, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Diana</em>
</p><p> </p><p> “It is the <em>duty</em> of the Great Nations to bring the light of civilization, order, and stability to those backward lands who are incapable of effective self-governance.”</p><p>Prudence Spencer stood before her three pupils, instructing them on the achievements and rapid growth of the British Empire.</p><p>Barbara, who was tired of her questions being ignored had resorted to looking answers up for herself. She now sat at her desk to the left thumbing through a large encyclopedia. Prudence Spencer ignored her.</p><p>Kara had grown bored within the first moments of the lesson and had been fidgeting at her desk to the right, doodling on her slate, for the past hour. Prudence Spencer ignored her.</p><p>But her last student, Lady Diana Princeton, sitting dead center, glaring ill-mannered, with hands balled in fists atop her desk, and shoulders squared like a bloody field-hand. This student had Prudence Spencer’s undivided attention.</p><p>“Great Britain especially carries this burden as our trade routes have brought us into contact with many such savage peoples. We have been blessed with advancements and prosperity that should be shared with the underdeveloped world. It is not only a national calling but a religious one as well.”</p><p>The pointing stick smacked the map and drew a large circle around the Arabian Peninsula, the crossroads of the ancient world. Miss Spencer’s eyes locked onto Diana.</p><p>“To bear the light of Christian faith to the heathen bound in ignorance and thus save their souls.”</p><p>“Did they ask?” Diana bit out vehemently.</p><p>Prudence’s eyes narrowed.</p><p>“I beg your pardon?”</p><p>“I said, did anyone one ask for this <em>salvation?</em>”</p><p>“Sheep cannot lead themselves, Diana, they require a shepherd.”</p><p>“But we are not talking about sheep, Miss Spencer. We are talking about human beings with the ability of rational thought.”</p><p>Prudence smirked.</p><p>“That is a topic of debate.”</p><p>A <em>SNAP</em> split the air, causing the other two students to look up. The pencil Diana had been gripping lay in two, the upper half resting at her teacher’s feet.</p><p>“These lost peoples need guidance Diana; they are incapable of advancement on their own. Even if there may be a few noble savages it hardly changes the state of the whole.”</p><p>BAM!</p><p>Diana slammed her hands on the desk and stood to her feet. Towering over the little English woman.</p><p>“Savage…<em>savage</em>…how dare you. They are people, proud, strong, brilliant! They do not need you or your stuffy clothes, or your religion, or your help. How dare you look down on them. No god would condone the venom of people like you!”</p><p>Miss Spencer’s civility fell away, and she glared back with unmasked disdain.</p><p>“I don’t know what kind of <em>mongrel</em> raised you, but you clearly still have a lot to learn.”</p><p>In one swift motion, Diana drew back her hand and slapped it across the woman’s face.</p><p>The tutor fell to the ground. Covering her cheek with her hand she looked up in shock. The sound of dumbfounded gasps reminded Diana that others were in the room.</p><p>Looking down at the English woman Diana lifted her chin with pride, just as she had been taught, as the Princess her mother had raised her to be. “Get out of my sight.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>1:45 PM, Riverfoot Hall, Kent England June 19, 1844</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Commissioner Gordon walked out into the hot summer sun, pinching the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses further up his face.</p><p>Heaving a sigh that surprised even him with its exhaustion he turned to look at the three figures sitting patiently outside under the columned overhand.</p><p>The little one, Kara was it? She was still as marble except for her eyes which flickered all around in frantic excitement and it was quite noticeable that she was biting her lip near raw to keep her face expressionless.</p><p>Next to her sat Diana, legs crisscrossed, back straight and ridged, propped against the house’s cool stone façade. Her face was unafraid, and her azure eyes looked steely.</p><p>And lastly sat a dejected redhead. Legs drawn up to her chest, chin resting on her knees, lost in her thoughts.</p><p>“Barbara, let’s go.”</p><p>When she didn’t move, he gave her a reassuring smile.</p><p>“Don’t worry, you’ll be back.”</p><p>Relieved his daughter stood up and shook the dust off her dress. She gestured goodbye to her friends, which Kara returned.</p><p>Barbara started walking towards the cab James had come in, but the Commissioner paused.</p><p>Rummaging through his coat pockets he retrieved two pieces of hard candy wrapped in wax paper. He put one in each of the remaining girls’ hands. Then he smiled, pushing his walrus mustache out of shape, and said.</p><p>“Cheer up. No matter how bad it seems, there is always tomorrow.”</p><p>With a lighter step, he turned and joined his daughter in the cab. It was always good to keep sweets in your pocket in case a child was scared. James had learned that lesson a long time ago.</p><p>As the cab rolled away down the road the front door again opened and Vanessa stuck her head out.</p><p>“Lady Diana, your Aunt wishes to talk to you. Lady Caroline, you may run along and play.”</p><p>With instant relief, Kara jumped up but looked hesitantly back at her cousin.</p><p>Diana tried to smile at her, but she was still angry and was not sure how well it turned out.</p><p>The little girl gave her a tight hug around the neck and whispered, “<em>I’ll go put your skates back</em>.” Before flying past Vanessa into the house.</p><p>“Ok Vanessa, I’m coming.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>1:55 PM, Riverfoot Hall, Kent England June 19, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Martha Kent</em>
</p><p>Inside Jonathan Kent’s study, Martha Kent sat behind his desk watching her 16-year-old niece face off against her from the far side of the room.</p><p>She did not even try to look remorseful. Martha rubbed her eyes, replaced her spectacles, and looked back at her niece. The girl stood tall and proud; her chin thrust so far in the air that she might fall over. Martha had been trying to wait patiently for the child to speak first, but when it became clear that Diana would not be the one to start this conversation Martha felt a headache coming on.</p><p>“I’m sure it won’t come as a surprise, but Miss Spencer has left.”</p><p>She waited, but Diana continued to say nothing. The pressure behind Martha’s eyes began to build.</p><p>“I know that some of what was said might have been difficult to listen to, but it is not appropriate to react in violence when one hears something that is upsetting.”</p><p>Diana looked incredulous. “You would have me do nothing?”</p><p>“I would have you <em>not</em> slap your teacher across the face.”</p><p>“She was being disrespectful!”</p><p>Diana raised her voice, but Martha held up a hand and the girl fell quiet.</p><p>“She was doing her job, however poorly. Diana, sometimes it is best to ignore what we can not change, such as the unpleasant opinions of others. In such cases, it is better to remain silent than to start an argument that will make everyone uncomfortable.”</p><p>“Silent?” Diana looked at her Aunt in horror.</p><p>“Yes, silent. Why cause everyone around you distress for something that you cannot change?”</p><p>“Because it isn’t right!” Diana was shaking as she clenched her fists.</p><p>“I know but—”</p><p>“NO! No, but! It’s wrong, all of it, and you would have <em>me</em> stand by and do nothing because it is more <em>pleasant?</em>”</p><p>“Diana—”</p><p>“Is nothing worth fighting for? If you see a child crying should I ignore it because it’s none of my business?”</p><p>“That’s not what I’m talking—”</p><p>“Or if a man is beating a dog, is it not wrong because it isn’t mine?”</p><p>“There are obviously circumstances when—”</p><p>“Why should I care about the comfort of others when if they don’t care about such injustice?”</p><p>“Just stop for a moment!”</p><p>Both were standing now, yelling to be heard over the other.</p><p>“No, I won’t! I don’t care what anyone thinks! Do you hear? I DON’T CARE! YOU’RE WRONG, YOU—”</p><p>“WOULD YOU JUST LISTEN HIPPOLYTA!”</p><p>The room fell silent, the air thick.</p><p>Horrified Martha looked at her niece’s surprised face.</p><p>“Uh…<em>Diana</em>…forgive me.”</p><p>Martha slowly sat back down and stared at her hands. Diana remained silent. All the anger evaporating as she watched her Aunt.</p><p>“I don’t think we need to discuss this matter further. What’s done is done, no sense dwelling on the past. I will speak to Clark about finding a new Tutor. One with a…<em>broader</em>, sense of the world.”</p><p>Slowly Diana unclenched her fists, folding her hands in front of her dress.</p><p>Martha looked back up, the motherly warmth returning to her face.</p><p>“Our guests will be here soon. Why don’t you go and change, fix your hair, make yourself ready to greet them.”</p><p>Diana nodded and turned but hesitated at the door.</p><p>“I’m sorry Aunt Martha, but I don’t want to learn to just ignore things.”</p><p>She left and Martha watched the door for a long while, thinking.</p><p>Making up her mind she pulled a piece of stationery from the desk and began to compose a letter.</p><p>
  <em>Dear Artemis,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                   I am writing to accept your invitation for Diana and Kara to spend the summer with you and Alexa. I know that Diana has greatly missed both Donna and Cassie since Christmas, I am confident that spending time with her paternal cousins will be good for her. Also, I thank you for extending the hospitality of the Troy household to include Kara. The girls will be on their way by the end of the week.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                         Sincerely,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                                   Martha Kent, Dowager Countess of Lonworth</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>11:53 PM, Riverfoot Hall, Kent England June 19, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Diana</em>
</p><p>Diana lay in bed staring up at the canopy, too excited to go to sleep.</p><p>After tea Aunt Martha had told her that both she and Kara would be going to stay with the Troys for the summer. Diana had been longing to travel beyond her small world here in Kent and was extremely curious about these men-hating cousins. Particularly after hearing Donna and Cassie’s stories about strange hobbies, unorthodox lessons, and the two women’s worshipful fascination with all things ancient and or Greek. When she’d been told that she would actually be spending an entire summer with them it was like a dream come true!</p><p>She wasn’t quite as excited at the prospect of such a long journey in the carriage, but Kara was coming and that should keep things interesting.</p><p>She giggled. It was impossible for Kara to be boring.</p><p>Yes, between the ridding of the hated Miss Spencer, the promise of seeing Donna and Cassie again, and the prospect of meeting Artemis and Alexandra Troy this had been an eventful day! She’d have to be sure to take a lot of stationery with her so she could tell Bruce of every last detail.</p><p>
  <em>I should write to Alfred too while I’m gone. Lucy and Barbara also, I hope they won’t be lonely without us.</em>
</p><p>Diana contemplated asking if at least Lucy could come with them, but then she remembered that Lucy was supposed to leave to visit her grandmother on the 27<sup>th</sup> and probably would not be able to join.</p><p>
  <em>Well that’s ok, today is only the 19<sup>th</sup> so we will just have to be sure to see her before…wait…THE 19<sup>th</sup>!!!!</em>
</p><p>Diana shot up and scrambled over the bed, flinging herself across the room she ripped the clock off her mantle and ran to the faint moonlight coming through the window. Squinting frantically to read the tiny numbers on its face.</p><p>“11:57 I’M NOT TO LATE!”</p><p>Throwing the clock on the bed, which gave a protesting clank as it bounced, she dove under her bed and dragged the jewelry chest out of its hiding place.</p><p>Fiddling with the key it took several desperate attempts to fit it into the lock. Each time she missed Diana cursed under her breath while her hands shook more with nervous anticipation.</p><p>With the lid open she hurriedly rid the box of all its contents.</p><p>Tossing silks aside like old newspaper she barely remembered to not throw her silver bracelets but lay gently to the side along with a hefty stack of letters, her pendant bracelet, and a velvet drawstring pouch.</p><p>
  <em>Hurry, Hurry…</em>
</p><p>Diana was becoming frantic and regretted throwing away the clock as now she had no idea what the time was.</p><p>
  <em>Come on you can make it!</em>
</p><p>Dumping out the last piece of silk and a squashed four-leaf clover she finally reached it!</p><p>Grabbing her treasure, she flew back to the window and plopped down cross-legged on the floor, using the moonlight to see.</p><p>Realizing the clock had not chimed yet she smiled and placed the little wooden doll on the windowsill, so it could look back at her with its faded green eyes.</p><p>For a rare instant, Diana allowed herself to speak in Arabic, and in a quiet voice meant for one very far away to hear she said,</p><p>“Told you I’d make it in time. Happy Birthday, Shayera, I wish you happiness sister…I love you.”</p><p>Somewhere in the room, a clock chimed.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Palace Harem, Kingdom of Dagra June 19, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Shayera</em>
</p><p>A solitary figure sat on the sloping tile roof that connected the high wall of the palace to the low wall of the gate. Staring out over the sleeping city, a sand-colored cloak wrapped against the cold desert night, she looked pensively at the night scene.</p><p>“You know you’re not fooling anyone with that disguise, it’s pretty obvious you’re not part of the wall.”</p><p>Shayera groaned and tried to ignore the unwelcome guest who climbed down from the window above, <em>her</em> bedroom window, and sat down next to her.</p><p>“When you weren’t in your room, I figured you’d be in the tower. But imagine my surprise when I glanced out the window and saw the biggest bird I’d ever seen perched on the roof!”</p><p>“I don’t go to the tower anymore,” Shayera grumbled, hoping he would just go away.</p><p>“Well, I’ll take it off the list of hiding spots then.”</p><p>The quiet returned and Shayera was almost able to forget his irritating presence but a fool will not be silenced.</p><p>“So, is this what you do in your spare time? I must admit I thought it’d be something with a bit more violence involved. Like a dog fight or setting Shani’s hair on fire.”</p><p>Shayera groaned and the older boy grinned.</p><p>“What are doing here Oron?”</p><p>“You didn’t think I’d forget, did you? Here, I brought you a present.”</p><p>Oron tossed something which Shayera deftly caught in her left hand.</p><p>“An orange?”</p><p>“Yep, Happy Birthday little sister!”</p><p>“Wow, thanks. Be still my beating heart.” Shayera said dryly while her brother convulsed with laughter, accidentally knocking a tile loose and sending it crashing over the wall below.</p><p>“Watch it! Do you want to get us caught?”</p><p>“<em>Eh,</em> don’t worry, no one’s down there.”</p><p>“Still, you should pay more attention.”</p><p>Suddenly Shayera smiled slyly and turned her mischievous green eyes towards her brother, who found Shayera’s smile to be oddly unsettling.</p><p>“You especially should be careful Oron. If you keep sneaking around the harem after dark someone might mistake you for an assassin.”</p><p>The boy looked utterly petrified until Shayera began to laugh and a relieved smile broke across his face.</p><p>“You’re cruel you know that?”</p><p>“And you are an annoyance.”</p><p>Oron raised his hands in mock surrender.</p><p>“Fair. But I do not think you need to worry about my mistaken identity, oh loving sister. I would be a horrible assassin; I don’t have the stomach for it. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”</p><p>Shayera scoffed and rolled her eyes. Oron though became serious.</p><p>“You could though.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You could do it. You’re not afraid to fight.”</p><p>She looked back at the city.</p><p>“And you are?”</p><p>“Yes, I’m not like you. You will always do what it takes to survive.”</p><p>It was quiet again, as Shayera thought over his words.</p><p>“Maybe the fact that there are things you won’t do to save yourself is a good Oron. A good leader shouldn’t sacrifice others to save themselves, but a warrior has to kill whoever it takes to stay alive.”</p><p>“Wait…are you saying you think of me as your leader?”</p><p>Shayera groaned again and tried to push him off the roof.</p><p>Exuberant Oron began to loudly exclaim, “I can’t believe that the great and angry Princess Shayera bint Garsiv has given ME a compliment!”</p><p>“Be quiet you fool!”</p><p>Undeterred he raised his arms to the heavens.</p><p>“Oh, stars remember this moment when a MIRACLE took place!”</p><p>“I hate you!”</p><p>With a laugh, he winked at her.</p><p>“No, you don’t.”</p><p>Patting her on the shoulder he said, “Happy Birthday Shaye.” Then he stood up and climbed down the low wall, dropping into the city street below.</p><p>Once he was gone Shayera looked down at the orange in her hand and smiled. Taking her other hand out from beneath the cloak she ran her thumb over the smooth face of the little wooden doll and traced the faded azure eyes.</p><p>“Happy 18<sup>th</sup> Birthday to me.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 24: Brains and Brawn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 24: Brains and Brawn</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Werth Palace, Kent England June 23, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Dinah &amp; Oliver </em>
</p><p>Oliver Queen was running down the corridor calling for his wife. All the while trying to balance the mountain of books and loose papers in his arms and stuffing any flyaway sheets into his vest before they escaped.</p><p>“Canary?”</p><p>He poked his head into a doorway.</p><p>“Yoo-hoo Birdie?”</p><p>Running further down the hall he investigated three more open doorways with no luck.</p><p>It was starting to feel like a game of hide and seek he’d used to play with Bruce, which had never ended in Oliver’s favor.</p><p>“DINAH LANCE!”</p><p>“I’m in here!”</p><p>With great relief and like a loyal hound Oliver bounded towards his master’s call, bursting through the double doors shouting.</p><p>“There you are, my love!”</p><p>He skidded to a stop inside the homemade gymnasium and watched his wife with unabashed awe.</p><p>Wearing a dark blue leotard Dinah was poised perfectly still on a pair of gymnastics rings. Facedown, legs straight, feet pointed to the ceiling, she held the handstand with ease and seemed unconcerned that the floor, a good five or six feet below, was devoid of safety mats.</p><p>Seeing him watching, she gave a wink, before dismounting with a flip and landing, on pointe, on a black X painted on the wooden floor.</p><p>Oliver’s eyes shone with adoration as he had to pick his jaw up off the floor.</p><p>“Feeling nervous Queen?” She chirped.</p><p>“Among other things.” He replied suggestively.</p><p>Dinah rolled her eyes and gave him a quick punch to the shoulder, sending his plethora of papers and books crashing to the ground.</p><p>He blocked her next strike and countered it with one of his own, throwing off her balance.</p><p>She reeled back but he caught her arm. Leaving her hovering inches above the floor.</p><p>He smiled triumphantly at her surprised expression, but his feelings quickly turned to confusion when she smiled back.</p><p>Next thing he knew Oliver was soaring through the air, head over heels.</p><p>With a loud THUD, he hit the floor on his back. His lungs deciding to forget how to breathe as all the air was knocked out of his body.</p><p>He groaned as his wife’s smug face loomed over him.</p><p>“<em>B-best two out of three?</em>” he wheezed as his vision lit up with stars.</p><p>Dinah laughed.</p><p>“Did you need something from me?” she asked.</p><p>“Now that you mention it, there was something.”</p><p>Still wheezing, he rolled over and pulled himself up into a sitting position. Dinah joined him on the floor and waited while her husband retrieved his scattered belongings. </p><p>“You’ve got to help me Birdie.” He pleaded. “Dent wants an update to our arguments this week and I can’t make heads or tails of these damn papers your mother sent.”</p><p>“Nice to see that expensive education your father bought you didn’t go to waste.”</p><p>“Hey! There are other measures of intelligence than books. For example, <em>I-came-to-You</em>, which proves that I am resourceful, inventive, and can utilize my pretty face.” Oliver fluttered his eyelashes and twirled the ends of his mustache. “Besides, you know school isn’t where people learn!”</p><p>“Which explains the current state of the Government.”</p><p>“It’s a tragedy, it truly is, now H-H-HELP!”</p><p>“Alright, calm down. So, what do we have here my Robin Hood?”</p><p>“Ok, here are the law books your mother sent over. Also, copies of the will, letters from the deceased, written agreement from the heir, Reverend Hale, to uphold said will, along with a written statement from his son, Elliot Hale, promising to <em>not</em> uphold the will.”</p><p>“Always a delight to hear from dear Elliot,” Dinah growled.</p><p>“Like a bad rash.” Oliver concurred. “Next, we have the declaration of sanity at the time of death written by his doctor. Two newspaper reports declaring <em>insanity</em> at the time of death by his valet and several anonymous sources.”</p><p>“<em>Pft</em>. Zachary was many things, but he was not insane.”</p><p>“<em>Uh-huh</em> yep, you’re absolutely right.” He nodded while continuing to sort. “Oh, and the witness’s statement from his cousin, Philip ‘Zeus’ Troy, at the first trial contesting the will last year. Where he said, and quote, the will was a fraudulent and his signature on the witness line a forgery…Wow, even his own cousin, that one hurts.”</p><p>“Give me the law books, the will, and the pledge of sanity first.”</p><p>“Here you go.”</p><p>Dinah began flicking through one of the books while Oliver continued sorting through the papers.</p><p>“It’s suspiciously helpful of your mother to be gathering all this information for us. I didn’t think <em>getting involved</em> was her strong suit.”</p><p>“It’s not…But, if there is one thing, she hates more than taking an interest it’s someone crossing the family.”</p><p>He shuddered. “As long as it brings her to the table.”</p><p>“Oliver, is this stain wine or blood?” His wife’s tone had gone cold.</p><p>Dinah held up a piece of parchment with notes scribbled on it and a small, but very distinct, red stain on the top left corner.</p><p>“Blood! I nicked my thumb testing some new arrows, see.”</p><p>He held up his bandaged finger as proof.</p><p>“How long?” she asked, her voice still authoritative but also concerned.</p><p>“One month today. Not since Bruce’s wedding.”</p><p>Dinah’s brow furrowed and Oliver blushed at the hazy memory of his behavior at the reception.</p><p>“Dinah, I promise.”</p><p>She studied his expression for a minute, then nodded, and turned back to the parchment.</p><p>“That’s quite a bit of blood. You should have your thumb looked at; it might need stitches.” Her voice was warm again.</p><p>They returned to work, the mood lightening, but after over an hour they were still not coming up with anything new to add to their case.</p><p>Visibly frustrated, Oliver left the room and came back with a bow and arrow.</p><p>Taking one of the will’s copies he tossed it in the air and shot an arrow through it. Nailing it to the back wall of the gymnasium, right above the window.</p><p>“Feel better?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>He sunk back to the floor and Dinah gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder while she continued to skim through the book on her lap.</p><p>Letting out a growl Oliver laid down on his back.</p><p>Throwing his hands towards the ceiling he yelled, “Why? Why-why-why! Why would Zachary Princeton make <em>me</em> the executor of his estate? I am not a lawyer!”</p><p>“Maybe he thought you’d be impartial.”</p><p>“How can I be impartial? I am married to <em>you</em>. You’re his bloody niece!”</p><p>“One, we weren’t married then. Two, I was his niece by marriage. Don’t let <em>Mama</em> hear you say it any other way, she still blames him for what happened.”</p><p>“It’s nice to see she’s softening with time.”</p><p>“And three, even if we weren’t married, Uncle Zach knew you would never do this without consulting me.”</p><p>Oliver pushed himself up on his forearms and tilted his head towards his wife.</p><p>“Why do you say that?”</p><p>Dinah turned and gave him a fond look.</p><p>“Because darling, you’ve never done anything without me.”</p><p>He grinned back.</p><p>“Well that’s because I may not be a genius, but I’m no fool. You don’t break up a good team.”</p><p>He reached over, placed a hand on her neck, and drew her face to his, kissing her lovingly on the lips. Letting go, he returned to lounging on his forearms, content to just stare up at her.</p><p>“Do you think we’ll win Prettybird?”</p><p>She flashed a doting smile.</p><p>“Ollie, between my brains and your pretty face, we can’t lose.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Kent Townhouse, London England June 23, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Lois &amp; Clark </em>
</p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>“LOIS!”</p><p>Clark jumped up, quickly shoving papers around on his desk.</p><p>“I thought you’d gone to sleep.” He said trying to sound nonchalant.</p><p>Lois appeared unconvinced, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyeing him with suspicion.</p><p>“I could say the same to you. You’re not normally a night owl.”</p><p>“Sorry, just trying to get some work done.”</p><p>“<em>Mmmm-Hmmm</em>, at 11:30 at night?”</p><p>Clark attempted to discretely push the papers farther away as his wife came closer.</p><p>“I didn’t mean to keep you up.”</p><p>Lois set her candle down on the desk and began lazily shifting the papers around with her fingernails.</p><p>Panicking Clark slammed his hand down on the pile.</p><p>His wife’s eyes widened, and she slowly looked up with a teasing smirk.</p><p>“Why so shy Farmboy, it’s just the society page. Do you need me to explain the difference between Lavender and Maroon again?”</p><p>Clark gave a nervous laugh, removing his hand and rubbing the back of his neck.</p><p>“Actually, I’m not working on the society column.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>Lois began to circle the desk. Her smile grew when she saw the big man begin to sweat.</p><p>“Yes…there’s an opening at the paper for an investigative reporter. Mr. White said whoever wrote the best story gets the job…it would mean two pounds more an article then what I’m making now, so I thought why not try?”</p><p>“I see. What’s it about?”</p><p>Timidly he shifted the top layer of papers. Lois craned her neck for a peak.</p><p>“Well…the assignment is for a political piece. I thought I might write about new MPs in the house of commons.”</p><p>Lois scrunched up her face and Clark looked away, dejected.</p><p>“I know, it’s not very good.”</p><p>She felt a stab of guilt as he quietly pushed his writing back underneath the mess.</p><p>“Can I see it?”</p><p>Her husband’s face jolted back in surprise. Again, Lois felt guilty at how her small display of interest elicited such a fervent reaction. Was he really that starved for approval?</p><p>She tried to give an assuring smile, but Clark wasn’t blind. His face fell and the hopeful spark in his eyes burned out.</p><p>He could always tell when she was putting up a front. He knew her too well.</p><p>Pushing the article back underneath, he blew out the lamp and picked up her candle.</p><p>“It’s late. I think you were right; it is time to sleep.”</p><p>He offered her his arm.</p><p>They didn’t talk as they walked through the dark house.</p><p>When they arrived at her bedroom, he kissed her goodnight and then walked down the hall to his own room.</p><p>Lois watched until the ever-dimming candlelight disappeared, and she was left in darkness.</p><p>She felt sad.</p><p>Not the kind of sadness that makes you want to scream, or cry, or bang your fists.</p><p>No, it was the kind of sad that leaves you feeling empty.</p><p>A hollow ache in the pit of your stomach.</p><p>Seeing him walking away down that hall, it had been like watching a stranger.</p><p>They had grown up together, played together, laughed together. He’d loved her since they were children. She hadn’t been in love with him, but she’d married him anyway.</p><p>
  <em>You knew he loved you, and you used it.</em>
</p><p>Lois grit her teeth.</p><p>Squaring her shoulders, she turned around and felt her way back through the dark house.</p><p>Pushing open the study door quietly she made her way inside. Fumbling a bit, she relit the lamp and sorted through Clark’s pile of papers.</p><p>Finding the article, she sat down in his chair, dipped the quill in the inkpot, lounged back, and read the headline.</p><p>
  <em>Young Captain of Industry, Alexander Luthor, becomes MP for the house of Commons. </em>
</p><p>“Ok Farmboy, let’s see what you’ve got.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 25: Meet the Troys</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 25: Meet the Troys</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Lancashire England July 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Diana </em>
</p><p>Diana’s mind was racing as she tried to decipher something, anything, of what the woman across from her was saying....it was not going well.</p><p>To say the various dialects and accents in the English language were proving challenging to her would be a gross understatement!</p><p>Diana had pieced together some understanding of how these various deviations worked. For example, she had recognized that many of them fell along class lines as well as by region. People in the upper class, such as her family, seemed to speak with a uniform accent regardless of which region they came from. Though some small differences might still appear. However, the servants and villagers she had met spoke in an entirely different way that was clearly separate.</p><p>She had prided herself on how well she was able to now understand both types and had foolishly assumed that she had heard all the variety England had to offer. She had been very mistaken.</p><p>Whatever it was that her fellow passenger was speaking in now was entirely undecipherable to Diana’s ears, and as far as she was concerned could be a completely different language altogether.</p><p>The coach lurched on the bumpy road but still, the woman did not pause for breath. She had been talking non-stop for the past six hours and Diana was not the only passenger who had grown weary of the monologue.</p><p>The elderly woman sitting beside the talker had not moved in several hours and if it were not for the occasional snore, you would think she was dead.</p><p>Beside her was a tall lanky man whose long legs stretched across the whole expanse of the floor. He also had an annoying habit of slowly widening his stance to gain more legroom. This had left the ladies' skirts crushed and twisted against one another and Diana with her feet sitting precariously on top of the Doctor’s case, who sat to the rude gentleman’s left.</p><p>The other occupants were a young woman with lots of freckles and a 3-year-old toddler on her knee, who they were all relieved had stopped screaming. And an overweight gentleman whose suit coat was too small and insisted on reading his paper throughout the journey, nearly knocking the young woman and Diana in the face each to he turned the page.</p><p>Kara, sitting next to Diana, was so far pressed against the window that the pressure had lifted her a good half-inch off the seat. Held immobile between Diana’s shoulder and the wall the 10-year-old had fought valiantly to return to her seat but had eventually accepted her circumstances. Now she was staring at her feet, which had lost feeling long ago, and wondering if she would ever walk again.</p><p>Finally, Diana gave up on listening and tried to whisper in Kara’s ear so the chatty woman would not hear.</p><p>“Why does she sound like that?”</p><p>Kara looked up from her feet and Diana felt like she was staring into the face of a weary soldier who has now known hell.</p><p>With dead eyes that held no hope of rescue from this prison, Kara answered.</p><p>“Because she’s from the North.”</p><p>“The North of what?” Diana asked confused.</p><p>Kara gave out a bone-weary sigh like the answer was going to take all the strength she had.</p><p>“Just, North!”</p><p>“Oh,” she still did not understand.</p><p>“At least it isn’t Cornwall.”</p><p>“Is that different?”</p><p>“You’ll know if you hear it.”</p><p>Kara rotated her head to look out the window and Diana decided not to bother her further.</p><p>“I’m so jealous of Big Barda, getting to ride up top.” Kara hissed. Diana tried to give her cousin a comforting pat on the hand, but she could not free her arm to do it.</p><p>Diana smirked.</p><p>“Would you really want her down here with us?” She nodded her head towards <em>long legs</em> and both girls quickly tried to hide their snickering. Without a doubt, Barda would have matched the man every inch for floorspace leaving the rest of them hanging out the windows.</p><p>Thankfully, the torture was coming to an end as the coach rolled to a stop and the driver called out their destination.</p><p>Mr. Long Legs got out first and helped the two girls down before reaching up to help the driver unload the luggage from the roof rack. Others began fighting to exit the coach while a rush of new passengers fought to get on. Diana quickly ushered Kara out of the way, afraid of losing her in the crush.</p><p>She looked back to the coach to be sure Barda was able to retrieve their luggage. Seeing the maid carrying the trunk on her shoulder Diana turned only to find Kara gone!</p><p>Panicking, the teenager frantically looked through the crowd for a pair of blonde braids and a blue bonnet. How could she have disappeared so fast?</p><p>Relieve flooding through her she spotted her wandering towards a group of children crowded by a storefront.</p><p>Pushing her way through the crowd she fought her way to the little girl. Grabbing Kara’s hand, she pulled her back to where Barda waited with their bags. Diana held the child’s hand in a death grip, terrified of losing her again, but thankfully Kara seemed to sense the older girl’s fear and did not protest to the crushing grasp.</p><p>They waited while the coach left and the crowd began to thin a bit before trying to move out of the way to a place where they would hopefully be easy to spot when the Troys came to get them. Luckily, Barda proved useful in navigating the street as others naturally cleared out of her path.</p><p>As the minutes stretched by Diana began nervously scanning the passing faces.</p><p>How was she supposed to recognize her cousins? What did they look like? Did they know what she looked like? What if they missed one another and the Troys gave up on them? Would they have to stay here in town for the night? But they did not have any money.</p><p>She was pulled from her worrying by Kara tugging on her hand.</p><p>“Di, look over there.”</p><p>A tall woman with orangish-red hair was crossing the street with long even strides, heading straight for them. The people passing by her all turned to stare with varying expressions of shock and disgust. The woman did not seem to notice and gave a cheerful smile to anyone in her path. As she came closer, they could see why she was eliciting such strong reactions.</p><p>She was easily 6 feet tall with strong shoulders and muscular arms. Her skin was used to the sun and abundant with freckles, orangish hair was pulled away from her face but left to hang loose down her back. Since coming to England Diana had never seen a grown woman wearing her hair down in public, except Barda who always wore a high ponytail. The woman’s dress, though it fit, was a faded printed cotton in a high-waisted style that had fallen out about 30 years ago.</p><p>She looked so out of place among the other pedestrians that it felt like she did not belong here at all but was from another time and place.</p><p>“Why is she dressed like that?” Kara asked.</p><p>“<em>Shhhh</em>”</p><p>The smiling woman came to a stop in front of them and looked at the teenager with eager eyes.</p><p>“Diana?” she asked hopefully.</p><p>“Yes, Cousin Alexandra?”</p><p>The woman gave an exuberant squeal and hugged her tightly, possibly cracking a few ribs.</p><p>“I’m so glad you’re here, and please call me Alexa.”</p><p> “Alexa. This is my cousin Lady Caroline Kent.”</p><p>Kara bobbed a hurried curtsey.</p><p>“You can call me Kara. That’s Big Barda, she’s Diana’s maid. Why are you dressed like that?”</p><p>Dian blushed deep red, wanting the sink into the ground from embarrassment, and take Kara with her. A <em>snort</em> caused her to jerk her head back to look at Barda. But the maid’s face was as stoic and unpleasant as always.</p><p>Thankfully, Alexa didn’t seem offended by the question. In fact, she seemed to take it quite seriously, pondering for several seconds before choosing how to answer.</p><p>Bending down so she was on eye level with the little girl she said, “When one must venture out into society it is best to blend with the natives.”</p><p>Kara and Diana shared a confused look at this cryptic response but there was no more time for questions.</p><p>“Now, let’s get your bags. We have a long drive to the house.”</p><p>With ease Alexa picked up the trunk, swinging it onto her shoulder, and headed back into the street. Diana, still gripping Kara’s hand, hurried after her while Barda brought up the rear, carrying her own carpetbag and the remainder of their belongings.</p><p>They followed her to an old farm cart. Alexa tossed the trunk into the open back and motioned for them to climb in with it. Diana looked on horrified at the thought of them all riding in the hay strewn cart, not certain it would be able to move under the weight.</p><p>Barda however seemed unconcerned and moved past her. Swinging one long leg over the side, and no doubt giving the other side of the street a free show, she climbed in and sat, arms-crossed, beside the trunk. Following the maid’s lead Diana hesitantly made her way to the rear of the cart. Barda offered her a hand, which she accepted, and pulled the girl into the wagon.</p><p>Turning around Diana held out her arms to help Kara up, only to see that the girl had once again wandered off. Whipping her head around frantically she was interrupted by a loud cough from Barda, who pointed towards the front of the cart. Diana looked in the direction she was pointing and saw Kara admiring the larger than life chestnut horse hitched to the cart.</p><p>“Kara! Get back here!” Diana hissed but her cousin was deaf to her warning.</p><p>Suddenly Alexa appeared at the horse’s side and smiled at the child’s fascination.</p><p>“Her name is Philippus, do you like her?”</p><p>Never looking away from the animal Kara nodded.</p><p>“Would you like to drive the cart?”</p><p>Kara’s jaw hit the ground as she spun to look at the imposing woman.</p><p>“Can I really?”</p><p>“Of course! I wouldn’t have asked if you couldn’t, that would be a lie, and we must always tell the truth. So, Kara of Kent, would you like to drive the cart?”</p><p>“YES!” Kara shouted, running back to try and climb up on the piece of wood nailed to the wagon frame that passed for a seat. She managed to pull herself partially up the wheel, but her short legs wouldn’t reach to crest it.</p><p>Laughing Alexa walked behind, grabbed the little girl by the back of her dress, and with one hand dropped her onto the seat. Kara immediately grabbed the reins, only barely remembering to wait for Alexa to climb in before flicking them and setting off.</p><p>As they drove Alexa kept her attention solely on Kara’s driving skills, pausing only once to point out the Irish Sea as they began to roll along the ridge above the coast. Diana and Barda road in silence, both taking in the beautiful scenery.</p><p>A sharp pain stabbed at Diana’s heart when the sea came into view. A painful longing bubbling to the surface as she watched the evening sun reflecting off the greyish blue water. The smell of salt mixed with the evening breeze and she felt that if she just closed her eyes, it was like traveling back in time, to a place where she had never seen rolling green hills or heard the name Diana Princeton.</p><p>“There it is!” Alexa cheered, breaking the girl’s trance, and pulling her back to the present.</p><p>Cresting the hill, she could see a redbrick house in the distance. Resting upon a small cliff overlooking the sea it was the only structure for miles. A sense of seclusion and nostalgia hung to it, almost like a magical hidden world.</p><p>As they drew closer though the house itself came into better focus and Diana let out a small gasp. The place was practically falling apart!</p><p>It was a two-story red brick with old fashioned window panes, no two of which seemed to match, and several were broken throughout, some with shoddy home repairs in the form of wood or cloth covering the holes, but there were at least two she could see that remained open to the elements.</p><p>It was a bit larger than a cottage but not as big as Riverfoot. Various forms of ivy and shrubbery climbed its walls, some dead some alive, and one large bank of windows on the ground floor was completely hidden behind the green foliage. The front door too was slowly being buried behind a wall of scraggly shrubs.</p><p>Random patches of overgrown grass competed with bare sections of earth, while a long oval-shaped space, several miles long, had been kept neatly clipped along the far side of the house. On the roof, one chimney had collapsed on itself, and the other two did not look much better off.</p><p>The bleating of goats interrupted the sound of crashing waves as roughly five of the creatures ran in front of the house. Clearly, they were supposed to be the lawn keepers but were not earning their keep.</p><p>The stable beside the house seemed to be in much better condition and Diana silently wondered if she could stay in there instead. There were other structures peeking out from behind the stable, homemade ones of wood and thatch, but she could not get a good enough view to see what they were.</p><p>Finally, the cart rolled to a stop and Alexa jumped down while the rest made their descent much slower. Diana didn’t pause to shake the loose straw from her skirt but hurried to the front, worried Kara would try to fly off as Alexa had. Her suspicions were correct, and she just managed to catch the mite before she faceplanted in the dirt.</p><p>Putting two fingers between her teeth Alexa blew a shrill whistle that left the others gapping.</p><p>The banging of doors and the high-pitched squeal of young girls raced towards them as the front door flew open and Cassie and Donna tumbled out, shouting ecstatically “You’re here! You’re here!”</p><p>Diana smiled at her two cousins and noticed that both had grown significantly since Christmas. Donna now came up to Diana’s shoulder and Cassie had edged out Kara by a good inch. She moved to embrace the two but quickly took a step back as a third exited the dilapidated house.</p><p>Artemis Troy stood just as tall as her twin sister and Diana marveled at the pair’s youthful appearance. She knew that the twins were supposedly in their sixties but looking at them now they could have easily been mistaken for women half their age.</p><p>They might not have been identical, but the resemblance was still uncanny. Except that, unlike Alexa’s warm and open presence Artemis commanded her space. Her muscular arms rested firmly on her hips and her feet spread in a fierce stance. She did not have her sister’s easy smile, but she did share her ginger-colored hair, which swung in a high ponytail at the crown of her head. Her brown eyes were sharp and all-seeing, or at least one of them was. Artemis’s right eye looked out at the world but could not see it. Blinded at a young age the once brown orb was now clouded by layers of scar tissue that made it looked grey in color and fogged over.</p><p>“So, you’re Zachary’s girl?” she bluntly said.</p><p>Diana started to curtsy, but Artemis struck out an arm. Uncertain what to do the girl awkwardly shook it while the older woman studied her face intently.</p><p>“Glad to see you resemble him, despite the mother.”</p><p>The teenager didn’t know how to respond, should she be offended or say thank you? Deciding, in the end, to do neither.</p><p>“It is a pleasure to meet you Cousin—”</p><p>Artemis held up a hand, cutting her off.</p><p>“Artemis.”</p><p>“It’s a pleasure to meet you Artemis.”</p><p>The taller woman gave a begrudging nod and turned to her twin. Diana let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.</p><p>“What are we going to do about those clothes? They can’t do anything useful in that. Some idiot man must’ve designed it so they couldn’t run away from him.”</p><p>Diana blushed and looked down at her outfit, wondering what was wrong with it. Isn’t this what all English ladies wore?</p><p>It was then that she finally noticed what Artemis was wearing.</p><p>It was Grecian style Chiton, made of linen, and cinched at the waist with a leather belt that resembled a breastplate. The skirt hung in pleats but only brushed to mid-thigh. She also noticed that Artemis wore no shoes or stockings, leaving her long muscular legs tan and free.</p><p>Diana quickly shifted her gaze to Donna and Cassie, finding them similarly clad and barefoot. She itched to be in such free and loose-fitting clothing once again and hoped against hope that she’d get a chance too.</p><p>“Well, we’ll teach them to sew of course Sister.” Diana tuned back in as Alexa reassured her twin. “And until then Cassie and Kara seemed to be of a similar size and Diana will borrow one of my tunics.”</p><p>Artemis grunted her approval, casting a sharp eye on the newcomers, causing Kara to inadvertently jump.</p><p>“I’ll need to make a new practice sword for this one,” Artemis said pointing at Kara, “I thought she’d be taller.”</p><p>All fear quickly evaporated the moment Kara heard the word sword.</p><p>“You mean I get a sword? A real one!”</p><p>“Of course!” Artemis bellowed, sounding offended at such an absurd question. “Do you intended to learn how to fight with a string?”</p><p>Kara looked like she was going to have a stroke from joy.</p><p>“<em>A Sword</em>.” She murmured like it was prayer.</p><p>“Well, a wooden one at least.” Alexa countered, “that is until you learn the proper technique.”</p><p>This didn’t dimmish her enthusiasm one bit as again she let out a reverent whisper of, “<em>A Real Sword!</em>”</p><p>Artemis smiled approvingly at the little girl’s lust for weapons.</p><p>“Alright, that’s enough chatter. Donna! Cassandra! Help them with the bags.” Artemis shouted and went to unhitch the horse.</p><p>What happened next was a blurred flurry of laughter, questions, and exciting predictions for the summer as Donna and Cassie led them through the house, not giving Diana enough time to register where they were going or what she had passed.</p><p>The next thing she knew they were in a long room on the second floor that once must have been a gallery but had been converted into a dormitory of sorts. Unlike the outside, this room was pristine. The Ashwood floorboards had been scrubbed spotless and the whole long wall across from the door was a bank of freshly cleaned windows looking out over the sea. There were no drapes or curtains of any kind so that sunlight would flood in unabated. The rest of the room was painted a light seafoam green but was faded from sunlight and gave off a yellow tinge.</p><p>The furnishings were sparse, and it looked like an odd mix between a military barracks and a child’s bedroom. Beneath the windows were four camp cots. Each neatly made with fresh sheets, one pillow, and a colorful home-made quilt. There was also a night table between each pair of beds but no lamp to be seen. The two cots on the left each had a wooden chest at the foot with the initials DT and CT carved on them, respectively.</p><p>On Donna’s portion of the room, there were various sketches, drawings, and paintings, hung neatly across the window and bare stretch of wall on a string. There was also a painted wooden horse and sliver locket with the letters DH on her side of the table.</p><p>Cassie’s side was less organized. A large silk scarf with several patches lay on top of the quilt, covering as much of its homespun surface as possible. Three rag dolls leaned against the pillow, one of which was wearing a paper crown. Newspaper clippings and old book renderings of far off places were crookedly tacked up around the cot’s head, and on her side of the table lay a string of false beads, one old glove, and a long yellow rope.</p><p>Donna eagerly showed Diana the flowers she had picked for her side of the room whilst Kara begrudgingly admitted to Cassie that, despite having grown an inch, Cassie having grown two made her now the taller.</p><p>“But I’ll bet I’m still faster!” Kara challenged and Cassie grinned gleefully, ready to accept.</p><p>All the visiting was halted however as the adults joined them.</p><p>“All settled in sisters?” Alexa asked with a smile before noticing Barda standing in the far corner of the room.</p><p>“Barda if you’d come with me, we have a nice room at the end of the hall you can use.”</p><p>Big Barda did not move but instead dropped her bag on the floor and crossed her arms, glowering at the other woman, who she surpassed in height by a few inches.</p><p>Alexa did not seem fazed.</p><p>“If you would prefer to stay here, I can bring up some bedding for you. I’m afraid we don’t have another cot.”</p><p>The maid nodded and began to make space for herself by the door. Diana and Kara both let out a groan but were ignored.</p><p>Just then Artemis strode into the room and gave it a quick once over.</p><p>“Very good.” She asserted. The relief of Donna at this statement was palpable. “Well, that should be everything.”</p><p>“Pardon me, when is dinner?” Diana asked.</p><p>“Bah! Eating three meals is injurious to the health and causes indigestion. There are only two meals eaten in this house, at six and two.” Artemis praised with a certain amount of self-satisfaction that the two guests found unsettling.</p><p>Diana tried to not let her features betray her surprise, but a certain petite blonde felt the need to voice her growing concern.</p><p>“No dinner? Di, they don’t eat dinner.”</p><p>“Not now Kara.”</p><p>“Sister, the girls have traveled a long way, and are no doubt rightfully hungry.” Alexa soothed while Artemis huffed and mumbled something under her breath about her sister going soft.</p><p>Ignoring her twin Alexa leaned down and gave Kara a wink.</p><p>“Don’t worry, I’ll bring you up some apples, maybe I can even find a roll or two.”</p><p>Kara reverently grasped the woman’s skirt and gazed worshipfully up at her newfound savior, uttering, “<em>Bless you</em>.”</p><p>Alexa laughed and patted her new disciple's head.</p><p>“Yes, yes, very well enjoy your snack.” Artemis begrudgingly conceded, much to the joy of Donna and Cassie who let out a hopeful cheer.</p><p>“Not you two!” Their aunt barked. Both girls groaned and protested but were easily ignored by <em>The General</em>, as Diana had mentally christened her.</p><p>Clapping her hands, like ordering troops, Artemis pointed at the group.</p><p>“The sun is setting. Everyone, time for bed. Alexa will bring you two of your snack but don’t let her catch you lollygagging when she does. Lights out in ten minutes.”</p><p>“What? But it’s not even dark out!” Kara cried pointing to the window.</p><p>“Early to bed early to rise!” Artemis trumpeted as she left the room and began marching down the hall.</p><p>“B-but-but—”</p><p>“You have to go to bed early little Kara, that way we are all well rested to get up at sunrise,” Alexa explained.</p><p>“I beg your pardon; did you say sunrise?” Kara sputtered.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“As in when the sun…Rises?”</p><p>“Correct.”</p><p>“Diana!”</p><p>“<em>Shush</em>.”</p><p>The older girl sent the blonde a warning look, but the pint-sized warrior flapped her arms in indignation at her companion’s lack of concern for their situation.</p><p>“Oh, and one more thing,” Alexa added, pausing at the door.</p><p>“What else could there possibly be!”</p><p>“<em>Cram-it Kara.</em>”</p><p>“Have Donna or Cassie show you how to get outside to use the privy. In case the need arises at night.”</p><p>“Um, is there not a chamber pot?”</p><p>“Not unless you want to clean it.” Cassie retorted.</p><p>Kara spun around with eye defying speed and shot Diana with an accusing look. Her small face a storm of unspoken accusations.</p><p>Plastering on a smile the older girl put her hand over her cousin’s face and pushed her out of sight.</p><p>“Thank you, Alexa. We’ll be sure to ask.”</p><p>The ginger-haired woman smiled again, lighting up the room with her warmth.</p><p>“I am just so pleased you are both here. We all are.”</p><p>Blowing a kiss to the four of them she said, “Goodnight little sisters.” And closed the door.</p><p>The next few minutes passed in a haze as the newcomers followed the veterans' lead and got ready for bed.</p><p>Exhausted from days of travel it was a relief to crawl onto her cot and bury beneath the fresh sheets. As soon as her head hit the pillow, all the tension and weariness begin to fade. Closing her eyes, she was soon fast asleep.</p><p>A shrill blast pierced the air and Diana jolted up in her bed, letting out a panicked cry!</p><p>Blinking she realized it was morning, so to speak, as the first rays of orange sunlight were breaking through the window. The drumming of feet vibrated the cot beneath her.</p><p>In shock Diana did not know what to do when Donna and Cassie ran past her towards the door, hollering for her and Kara to hurry. Still not convinced this wasn’t a dream she stared blankly at the spare, single-shouldered, Chiton laid neatly at the foot of her cot, wondering who had put it there, and when?</p><p>Another trumpet blast punctured the air and Diana covered her ears with her hands.</p><p>With terrifying force, the bedroom door banged open, shaking the walls, and the powerful form of Artemis filled the doorway. Swinging her arm out she pointed the offending trumpet at the girls and yelled, “BE ON THE GREEN IN 5 MINUTES OR YOU’RE MUCKING THE STABLE!” Putting the horn back to her lips she continued to assault the house with blasts as she marched back down the hall.</p><p>The teenager turned to the other cot and saw Kara, laying on her side, curled up in a tight ball, pillow wrapped around her ears, shooting daggers at Diana with a look that could kill. Her nostrils flaring, Kara took several deep breaths before biting out between clenched teeth, “What have you done to us?”</p><p>Diana just stared dumbly back. She had no answer to <em>what</em> this was, but she knew one thing, she was going to run like hell to the green!</p>
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<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 26: Not Enough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 26: Not Enough</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Kent Townhouse, London England July 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Lois &amp; Clark </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Lois glanced at the clock again, how had it only been two minutes?</p><p>She anxiously continued her pacing, glancing every few seconds at the front door, her heart pounding louder in her ears with each step.</p><p>She absentmindedly began biting her nails. The waiting was killing her!</p><p>The click of the door handle turning snapped her back to the present as she ran to the door, practically blowing Clark back into the street as he opened the door.</p><p>“So, what did he say?” Lois shouted, the excitement mixing with anxiety as she studied her husband’s face for a clue.</p><p>Clark smirked at his wife. “Good evening to you too.”</p><p>“Stuff it with the manners Kent, I want answers now!” Lois huffed as she pulled the large man through the doorway and slammed it closed behind him.</p><p>Hands-on-hips she blocked the door with her tiny frame, cutting off all escape.</p><p>Clark tried to suppress his laughter but failed. Violet eyes blazing Lois began to tap her foot, Clark immediately cut the laughter. There were few things she hated more than not being taken seriously.</p><p>“Well?” she demanded indignantly.</p><p>Lois watched his smile grow until he was grinning like an idiot.</p><p>“I got the job!”</p><p>“YES!” Lois shouted as she threw her arms around his neck. He spun her around the foyer as the pair shrieked with excitement.</p><p>Setting her down, Clark held on to her arm as she wabbled a little.</p><p>“See Farmboy, I told you it was a good piece.”</p><p>He shyly rubbed the back of his neck and looked at his shoes, but for once his bashfulness didn’t irritate her.</p><p>“I couldn’t have done it without you, Lois. I tried to put your name on the article too, but Mr. White—”</p><p>She put a hand up to stop him.</p><p>“I told you he never would, but it doesn’t matter, I can help you with this and you can finally get some recognition! Your writing skills were wasted on the society column.”</p><p>Clark’s heart swelled with love as he grabbed her in a bone-crushing hug. Not realizing how tight he was holding her until he felt her small fist hitting his back. Panicking, he let her go and watched horrified as she gulped in air.</p><p>“L-Lois, I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t mean to—”</p><p>Her laughter stopped him as she doubled over, tears leaking from her eyes as her laughter grew. Clark was beginning to worry about his wife’s sanity, as she tried to calm herself, wiping tears away with her fingers.</p><p>“Relax Clark, I don’t break that easy.”</p><p>He breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn’t hurt…or angry. He gazed adoringly at her smiling face, how he had missed that smile.</p><p>“What’s in the bag?”</p><p>Clark looked down, remembering the brown paper bag gripped in his left hand. Feeling sheepish he held it out to Lois. She pulled out a book and gave him a quizzical look.</p><p>“Fairy Tales?”</p><p>“It’s an English translation, it’s by a Dane name Hans Christian Anderson. Apparently, it is quite popular with children. I thought the girls might enjoy it.”</p><p>Lois raised her eyebrows as she put the book back in the bag. “I’m sure Kara will, but I’m afraid it might be a bit too young for Diana. You might want to try Oliver Twist instead.”</p><p>Clark frowned.</p><p>“No, there’s too much ugliness in that book. I don’t want her to have to think of unpleasant things.”</p><p>Lois began to tell him that life was ugly but bit it back down. Instead, she handed him back the bag. Clark’s shy smile returned.</p><p>“There’s something else.” He said, reaching into his jacket he pulled out another parcel, this one wrapped in delicate white tissue paper.</p><p>Lois untied the package, letting out a small gasp, as she held up a tortoiseshell hair comb.</p><p>“Clark…it’s beautiful but…we can’t afford—”</p><p>Clark took the comb and gently placed it in her hair.</p><p>“We can now.”</p><p>Spontaneously, Lois stretched up on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss.</p><p>He looked down in surprise, a crooked grin on his boyish face.</p><p>“Well, since it seems you got gifts for everyone but yourself, I’m going to go see if Cook can manage some dessert to go with dinner.”</p><p>Lois started to head off towards the kitchen, only to turn around and run back.</p><p>“I nearly forgot,” she said pulling an envelope from her dress pocket. “This came for you today, it’s from your mother.”</p><p>Lois left to see to dinner and Clark took the letter into the parlor. A sense of relief enveloped him as he sauntered towards the big easy chair by the fireplace.</p><p>He thought of all the wonderful things this new job would mean for them. Finally, he would be making enough money to give his wife the life he’d wanted to. She’d never complained but Clark couldn’t escape the overwhelming sense that he had failed her. He visibly winced at the memory of Lois borrowing one of Dinah’s dresses for Christmas dinner.</p><p>Over the last year, he’d had to let go of most of their servants and sell all of his father’s prized horses just to keep them from going under while he paid off the last of the late Earl’s debts.</p><p>But now, things were finally looking up. The debt was paid off and now Lois could have a lady’s maid again, Cook could hire a boy to fetch and carry, and Beth wouldn’t be the only maid anymore. It was a bit soon to think of having a butler or footmen again, but someday.</p><p>He sat down, legs stretched out, breaking the seal he began to read.</p><p>Immediately his stomach dropped into his shoes. Sitting up his brow furrowed as he read his mother’s letter again before letting out a defeated sigh, hanging his head.</p><p>Ma had found the girls a new tutor, a young intellectual fresh out of school. Apparently, he was a genius, top of his class, youngest graduate they’d had in a few years, and expensive.</p><p>In her letter, she’d said she felt it would be harder for Diana to intimidate a male teacher, something Clark had to agree with, and she hoped that he might provide the girls a more diverse education that would capture their interests. Well, good luck to anyone on capturing Kara’s attention long enough to discover her interests.</p><p>It wasn’t enough…even with his raise, it still wasn’t enough money. He couldn’t afford to hire this…what was his name?</p><p>Clark looked back at the letter.</p><p>“Raymond Palmer.”</p><p>Clark ran a hand through his hair.</p><p>He had to think of something, some way to make this possible. If he told his mother that he couldn’t afford this new tutor it would open the door to a host of questions that he just wasn’t willing to answer. He had worked so hard to protect her from the truth. Told countless little lies to reassure her that everything was fine and that she didn’t need to be concerned about money, he would take care of it. She already had enough to worry about with raising two girls alone. No, he had to find a way to do this for her…but how?</p><p>“What am I going to do…it’s not enough.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Chapter 27: This is Sparta</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Big thanks to my new friend Hannah for helping me write the sparring scene! You were beyond helpful.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter 27: This is Sparta</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Lancashire England August 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Diana, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sunday Morning</em>
</p><p>Diana dropped face down on her cot, every muscle in her body screaming at her! She groaned as she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, to tired and sore to even consider getting up. Even blinking hurt.</p><p>Life with the Troys was definitely an experience.</p><p>Every morning, rain or shine, as soon as the first rays of sunlight appeared in the sky they went for a run. Miles and miles up the beach until the sweat was pouring off them. Then they’d strip down and jump into the cold seawater. The first morning Diana had thought her heart would stop from the frigid temperature, but she was <em>slowly</em> adjusting to it. Once in the water, they’d swim as fast as they could to an exposed bit of rock, mostly to keep from freezing to death, and then back.</p><p>One morning Kara had climbed on top of the rock and yelled that she wasn’t coming back because it was too cold. Artemis had patiently waited till the tide came in and Kara’s perch submerged. Then Alexa had to swim out and rescue the girl as it was much harder swimming at high tide.</p><p>Once back on the beach they redressed and ran to the house. But that was only the beginning.</p><p>At the house they did morning exercises on the green, the oval piece of lawn used for training, stretching and pulling until Diana thought her joints would never bend the same way again.</p><p>After the morning “warm-up” was over they went inside and cleaned their room. It had to be perfect to pass inspection. If it didn’t then no breakfast for any of them until the offending party’s space passed muster.</p><p>When questioned on why they all had to suffer for one person’s mistakes, that particular day it had been Cassie’s failure, Artemis had loudly stated that “A group is only as strong as its weakest link, and the rest must band together to support it.”</p><p>Having passed inspection, it was finally time for breakfast. Always the same, fruit and some bread. Sometimes if the bread was too stale, they would break it into pieces in a bowl and pour milk over it.</p><p>That was where they were at today. Post-breakfast, back in their room getting ready for the second part of the day.</p><p>Hearing feet pounding on wooden boards Diana turned back over on her stomach, trying to hide her suffering from her three younger cousins, and letting out another groan of pain for her efforts.</p><p>She thought her muscles were finally getting used to all the exercise, but the beating she had taken sparring with Alexa yesterday meant she was feeling the repercussions today. Though she had won, even if Donna insisted the older woman had taken it easy on her.</p><p>Normally after breakfast, the day followed a set routine:</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">On the Green</span>
</p><ul>
<li>Wrestling,</li>
<li>Sword Training,</li>
<li>Archery,</li>
<li>Javelin and Spears,</li>
<li>Running, Climbing, and Obstacle Jumping,</li>
<li>Learning to Ride bareback without reins on Philippus,</li>
</ul><p><span class="u">Lunch:</span> Like breakfast, it was always the same. A large salad of vegetables with wild herbs and nuts, bread, and cheese.</p><p>
  <span class="u">Back on the Green</span>
</p><ul>
<li>Hand to Hand Combat,</li>
<li>Endurance Training,</li>
<li>Sparring,</li>
<li>Cleaning and Maintaining Weapons,</li>
<li>Baths in the Stream,</li>
<li>In bed by Sunset.</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>Monday through Saturday…But not today.</p><p>Because today was Sunday!</p><p>“Thank Hera!” Diana mumbled into her pillow as Cassie, Kara, and Donna came into the room.</p><p>She loved Sunday! Sunday was house day.</p><p>“Diana! You had better fix your bed, I’m not going to suffer because of you!” Cassie scolded.</p><p>“You know you could always help her.” Donna admonished. Rolling her eyes when her sister gave a shocked expression at the suggestion.</p><p>“It’s alright, I’m up, I’m up,” Diana grunted as she stiffly pushed herself into a sitting position.</p><p>“Still sore?” Donna asked with a mischievous grin.</p><p>“Not at all. I just feel like taking my time, you know, really enjoy being a-LI-I-ve!”</p><p>She let out a sharp gasp as she got to her feet and the other two girls erupted in giggles.</p><p>“Let’s go ladies!” Shouted Kara, clapping her hands like Artemis did, “These clothes aren’t going to wash themselves!”</p><p>Picking up her chitons and ripping the sheets off her cot Kara marched out of the room, Donna and Cassie quickly following.</p><p>Diana winced as she too began to collect her laundry, careful to leave the pillow and blanket stacked neatly on the foot of her cot. Sometimes she wondered how Kara had adjusted to their new militaristic lifestyle so easily.</p><p>The younger girl thrived! She was the first one up every morning, eager to discover what new skill she’d acquire that day, and at night she slept so soundly that once she had rolled off her cot and never woken up. Barda had picked her up off the floor and put her back on her bed with Kara none the wiser.</p><p>Having gathered all her clothes Diana rushed to join the rest at the stream.</p><p>There were no servants at the Troy house, and the sisters lived by the rule that, <em>if you didn’t use it, you didn’t clean it</em>. As a result, there were many rooms and objects in the house where the dust and grim lay so thick it could suffocate a man. But those they did use were kept spotless.</p><p>Everything was about economizing. They woke and went to sleep with the sun, so there was no need to buy candles. They tended their own garden and fruit trees as well as owning a cow so there was no need to buy from a grocer. And baths were taken in the cold stream, Alexa said it was good for the circulation, which saved on firewood from heating the water.</p><p>Artemis and Alexa also had some strange opinions on diet.</p><p>No sugar, no coffee, and absolutely no tea! Meat was eaten only once a week and each meal was followed by a brisk fifteen-minute walk to aid in digestion.</p><p>The lack of tea had been especially trying for Diana, but Artemis had insisted that stimulants were a poison to the blood and would not hear of having it in the house.</p><p>Also, on the list of banned items were tobacco, lard, shellfish, alcohol, and for some unknown reason chocolate.</p><p><em>Such a strange world. </em>The teenager thought as she dropped her sheets into the creek and began scrubbing them with a piece of soap. The sound of laughter mingled with the splashing water and a content smile grew on her face. It may have been strange, but it had its charms.</p><p>
  <em>Afternoon</em>
</p><p>Now that the laundry was washed and hanging in the sun the girls had a couple hours of free time.</p><p>Normally, Donna would spend it drawing, Cassie would read, and Kara would challenge anyone she could find to a game of checkers.</p><p>Diana however could usually be found sitting on the cliff overlooking the sea with pen and paper composing letters.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>So darling Lucy allow me to continue the list of new phrases I have learned while staying here. These particular ones are especially favored by Cousin Artemis.</em>
</p><ol>
<li><em>Great Hera!</em></li>
</ol><p>
  <em>(I’m sure you remember this one from Christmas when Cassie yelled it at dinner.)</em>
</p><ol>
<li><em>In the Name of Athena!</em></li>
<li><em>By the White Beard of Zeus!</em></li>
<li><em>Hera Give Me Strength! (Hera is very popular here.)</em></li>
<li><em>May Persephone Forgive Thee!</em></li>
<li><em>For the Love of Hestia! (Alexa’s Favorite)</em></li>
<li><em>Apollo Be Praised!</em></li>
<li><em>Suffering Sappho!</em></li>
<li><em>By the Goddess! (meaning Aphrodite) or</em></li>
</ol><p>
  <em>Artemis be Merciful! (not sure if referring to the goddess or sister?)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In answer to your previous question Lucy, no the twins do not seem to go to church. I asked Alexa about your question of if they are Church of England or Catholic worshipers, though I am still unclear on the difference, and she said neither. Later I asked Cousin Artemis and got a more elaborative answer. Apparently, the sisters do not appreciate the patriarchal system of the organized Christian religions, though Alexa said she had great respect for the Lord Jesus himself. Instead they prefer the ways of the old gods, more specifically goddesses, as it seems a much more egalitarian system of genders. It is still unclear as to weather or not they actually pray to or believe in the Greek Pantheon as the current divine rulers of the world’s fate, or that they simply like the notion of it. Either way I can attest that they are as devoted to their ideals as any follower of western religion that I have yet to encounter. And I must admit dear Lucy that I too find it fascinating. There is something intriguing in the thought that not everything was ordered by man and that a woman, or goddess, can be just as powerful without giving up the qualities that make us unique. Well, that is all I have to report for now. I’ll write again soon and please let me know if your mother’s dog is doing any better.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                           Sincerely your friend,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                                                              Diana</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Diana folded the letter and placed it with the others, checking to be sure none had gone missing.</p><p>
  <em>Lucy, Alfred, Barbara, Clark, Lois, Aunt Martha, Dinah, and Bruce.</em>
</p><p>Satisfied she tied them up in her blue hair ribbon before turning her attention back toward the sea.</p><p>Breathing deeply, she filled her lungs with the salty air, feeling her heart and mind calm as the music of waves lapping against the cliffs sang in her ears. She loved this place. Of all the places she had seen since coming to England this spot reminded her most of Dagra.</p><p>A soft smile curved on her lips as she drew her knees to her chest. Wrapping her arms around her legs she rested her chin atop them and watched the sun glisten and bounce over the endless blue water.</p><p>In this quiet moment, she found her thoughts wandering to those whom she had left behind. Letting her curiosity lead she wondered what they were doing right now?</p><p>She imagined Shani strutting through the palace, flaunting another priceless jewel her father had given her. Sultana would be sitting with her mother, drinking tea, and discussing the trails of raising small children.</p><p>The younger concubines would be lounging in the garden, enjoying the cooling mists from the fountains, and laughing while unseen musicians played behind screens, and their older counterparts napped in their chambers to escape the hot afternoon sun. Maha and Fayza’s bickering voices descending from an above balcony periodically disrupting the peaceful atmosphere as they debated, for the hundredth time, which of them was now the second wife since Nadia’s death fifteen years before.</p><p>She saw Nadira playing an elaborate prank on some poor unsuspecting victim, probably one of the eunuchs. Shayera was probably hiding in the tower or arguing with Fadeela about why she did not deserve her latest lecture. And finally, she thought of her Ami.</p><p>Nura with her long dark hair in a silky braid hanging almost to the floor. The soft whisper of her silk robes floating over cool marble floors mingled with the familiar scents of jasmine and frankincense wafting through the air. The tinkling of her many bracelets echoed as she directed servants and slaves, organizing gifts for charity, or checking the final preparations for another elaborate banquet.</p><p>Yes, surely their life had gone on as it had before.</p><p>Diana felt her insides warmed by the thought and a bird’s cry sounded overhead as it dove down to claim a fish from the sea. She found it comforting to think that regardless of where she was or how different her world had become, the beautiful, idyllic paradise of her youth remained unchanged.</p><p>“Diana! Where are you? Diana!”</p><p>“Over here, Cassie!”</p><p>The youngest of her cousins jogged across the field to her side, blonde curls bouncing with every step.</p><p>“There you are! What are you doing?”</p><p>“Just thinking.”</p><p>Cassie’s brow creased.</p><p>“You do that a lot.”</p><p>Diana gave a soft chuckle and turned to look at her cousin.</p><p>“Do I? Well, I suppose I cannot help it. It’s just so incredibly beautiful here, don’t you think so?”</p><p>Cassie shrugged as she glanced at the view.</p><p>“Boring is more like it. You’ve seen water once you’ve seen it a thousand times.”</p><p>This time Diana rolled with laughter at the younger girl’s pessimism. Cassie did not see what was so funny but found Diana’s laughter infectious.</p><p>“What do you need <em>Sister Cassandra?</em>”</p><p>“Aunt Alexa sent me for you. We need your help getting ready for the feast!”</p><p>Cassie rubbed her hands together in anticipation of their annual Sunday festivities.</p><p>“Alright, I’m coming. Here, help me carry these will you?”</p><p>The pair made quick work gathering up Diana’s belongings before racing back to the house.</p><p>Coming through the open back door they found most of the tribe gathered in the kitchen.</p><p>Alexa and Donna were busy making bread for the week, Kara was churning butter, and Barda sat on a stool in the corner sharpening roasting sticks for the bonfire.</p><p>Looking up Alexa smiled and tried to wipe the excess flour off her face with the back of one hand while motioning Diana to join them with the other.</p><p>Dutifully the teenager went over to the table and began to help Donna knead the new loaves while Cassie joined Kara at the churn.</p><p>While they worked Alexa, who never liked to waste an opportunity for learning, would sing them old songs and chants about the ancient days and tell them stories of the great heroes of Greek legend and myth.</p><p>Most of the stories she had told before, but each time was just as thrilling as the last. Diana didn’t know how but Alexa always managed to tell each one as if she had been there herself, making things that most would deem fantasy so real and tangible that the listener would find themselves believing them wholeheartedly to be true. As if the woman herself had lived it thousands of years ago.</p><p>Right now, she was recounting the twelve labors of Heracles, with the same ire and distaste that she could never disguise when speaking that name.</p><p>As Alexa worked her way through each task, describing the scene as if seen by her own eyes, the atmosphere of the normally buzzing kitchen grew still and quiet.</p><p>Kara and Cassie stopped churning, Diana and Donna’s hands ceased kneading, even Barda quit whittling as they all leaned in, reverently hanging on her every word. So completely absorbed that no one scarcely breathed lest they break the spell.</p><p>“It was Ares, that vile and conniving dog of war, who let his jealousy of the proud Amazon race fuel his rage and seek their downfall.”</p><p>“<em>What did he do?</em>” Kara whispered.</p><p>Alexa gave a knowing smile.</p><p>“He heard a rumor. Of a son of Zeus, with the strength of a god, bound in service to his cousin King Eurystheus to atone for the murder of his family.”</p><p>Alexa pushed another board of loaves into the hot brick oven, completely unfazed by the scorching heat.</p><p>“Now, Eurystheus was a greedy and foolish man, his beady little gray eyes were always searching for a new prize. Having heard of the legendary magic girdle possessed by the Amazon’s he desired it for himself, because not only was it a gift from the gods, it would grant any woman who wore it the strength of a hundred men!”</p><p>A low whistle echoed somewhere in the room.</p><p>“So, Eurystheus sent Heracles to retrieve it and bring it back, so the King might present it as a gift to his own daughter.”</p><p>Alexa spit on the floor in disgust.</p><p>“Treacherous lecher.”</p><p>She began dusting more flour on her hands.</p><p>“So, seeing an opportunity, Ares inspired his half-brother to make war against the noble Amazon’s.”</p><p>“<em>No,</em>”</p><p>The older woman nodded her head.</p><p>“Yes. Heracles led a mighty army against them and challenged their leader to single combat!”</p><p>Donna took in a sharp breath.</p><p>“On the day of their duel, Heracles stepped out onto the battlefield ready to face her. But he was not prepared for what greeted him there. It was no mere general whom he would face, but the Queen of the Amazons herself! Queen Hippolyta strode onto the field, golden hair billowing behind her, sword at the ready as she faced the challenger.”</p><p>
  <em>Mother</em>
</p><p>Alexa gave Diana a strange look as if she had heard her thoughts.</p><p>“Using the girdle’s great strength Hippolyta defeated Heracles!”</p><p>A cheer went up from the group, but Alexa raised her hand, silencing them.</p><p>“But that was not the end. Later, the Queen allowed herself to be seduced by the handsome demigod. He tricked her into letting him hold the girdle.”</p><p>Alexa’s face hardened with pain and betrayal.</p><p>“By his treachery, the Amazons were led into bondage by the man their Queen had once loved.”</p><p>Sorrow settled over the girls, an unexplainable sense of loss permeating the air.</p><p>“The Amazon sisters cried out to the gods, begging them for deliverance….They suffered many years at man’s brutal hand…..until at last, the goddess Aphrodite agreed to grant them their freedom on one condition.”</p><p>“<em>What?</em>”</p><p>“That they renounce the world of men and journey far away, to an island granted them by the goddesses. There to live in seclusion for all eternity, guarding the gates of Tartarus and the realm of Hades from foolish men who think to meddle in the affairs of gods. They were granted immortality and tasked to be ever vigilant, warriors and sisters bound together by love, duty, and honor. Lest man’s world should ever find them again this time they will be ready.”</p><p>“What was their island called?” Diana said in a hushed voice.</p><p>Alexa smiled and her eyes took on a faraway look.</p><p>“Themiscyra.”</p><p>BANG!</p><p>A pair of dead pheasants dropped on the table with a clatter causing everyone to jump out of their skins.</p><p>Donna frantically swatted at the air like they were under attack, Diana gripped the dough trough, ready to hurl it at the intruder, Kara and Cassie both screamed and clung to each other for dear life, Alexa tried to choke down her laughter but just ended up in a coughing fit, and Barda simply went back to whittling.</p><p>“THERE!” Artemis bellowed, a triumphant grin on her sweaty. “When do we feast?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Evening</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The fire roared! The smell of roasting meat billowed with the smoke as Artemis turned the spit over a bed of hot coals a few yards away from the bonfire.</p><p>The girls eagerly stacked their skewers with various vegetables and wild mushrooms, returning to roast them over the open flames. Barda sat stoically beside a water bucket in case Kara’s tunic caught on fire…again.</p><p>Alexa was busy slicing up the last loaf of last week’s bread and handing them to Donna who was toasting them over the coals with a fork. When the toast had cooled, they would spread it with butter or fresh cream and honey as a dessert!</p><p>“That out to do it! Come little sisters, let us eat these birds!” Artemis hollered and the rest cheered.</p><p>After eating their fill, it was time for the <em>test of strength</em>.</p><p>“Alright, you all know the rules? The first team to drag all their opponents across this line wins the lasso of truth.”</p><p>“And then the losers have to answer any questions we ask them! Right, Aunt Artemis?”</p><p>“Correct Cassandra. Now, Donna, Kara, Alexa are one team. Cassandra, Diana, and I the other. Never surrender sisters!”</p><p>With a loud battle cry, they ran to the yellow rope that lay on the ground. Digging their bare feet into the earth as much as possible each team gripping tightly, muscles coiling with pent up energy ready to be released.</p><p>Big Barda’s hand held the rope in place, to make sure no one began to soon.</p><p>“Ready?” The maid’s deep, uninterested, voice asked.</p><p>A flurry of nodding heads was her answer.</p><p>“Begin!”</p><p>Diana pulled with all her might! The rope burned in her hands and she fought to keep her hold. The slick grass beneath her feet began to give way as her toes dug into the mud, struggling to step back and not give up the contested ground.</p><p>“Pull!” Artemis’s command shouted above the fray.</p><p>“Don’t give up sisters!” Alexa hollered back, against her Twin.</p><p>“Move your feet, Kara!” Donna grunted.</p><p>“I AM TRYING!” Kara growled as her heels dug in.</p><p>“We’re doing it!” Cassie yelled as Kara suddenly jolted over the line.</p><p>“Don’t stop, keep going!” Diana roused as she locked eyes with an equally determined Donna.</p><p>“Pull!” Artemis yelled again.</p><p>“Fight Kara!” Alexa encouraged.</p><p>Suddenly Kara gave out a banshee cry that split the air.</p><p>Grabbing the rope with all her might the little girl began to run backwards with everything in her! Picking up the momentum Donna too began to pour all her strength into running back.</p><p>Diana’s hands were on fire as the rope began to leave her grasp. Determined to hold on she gritted her teeth and hooked the rope under her arm, refusing to lose any more ground as she felt her self-slide.</p><p>“NOW!” Alexa yelled.</p><p>They gave one great yank and suddenly Diana felt herself flying! Landing facedown on the ground with Cassie and Artemis falling on top in a dog pile. The sound of the others cheering mixed with hysterical laughter as they all took in the sight of Cassie with a large clump of dirt in her mouth.</p><p>“You lose!” Donna yelled in her sister’s face. “Lasso of Truth time Cassandra! Now you have to tell me where you hid the good practice sword!”</p><p>The game was over, sitting back around the dying fire they ate their toast as the stars began to shine. Alexa pointed out the different constellations while Artemis made comments on which ones were better or worse. Diana smiled as she watched the last of the coals begin to dim, she liked it here. Today had been fun.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Three Weeks Later, Thursday-Sparring</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Diana tightened her leather protectors that ran from her wrist to just below her elbow. Donna gave a smirk as she adjusted her ponytail. Try as she might Diana had yet to best her cousin in competition, but today was going to be different.</p><p>“Here!”</p><p>Artemis handed each of them a long wooden staff before stepping back to the sidelines. Kara and Cassie were already predicting who would be the victor as Alexa gave Diana some last-minute instructions on her footwork. Barda was barely noticeable, leaning against a willow tree, arms-crossed, face expressionless.</p><p>“You know Diana, there’s no shame in conceding now. I would hate to have to humiliate you for the, what is it now, 12<sup>th</sup> time in a row?”</p><p>Donna smiled mischievously as she goaded her older cousin.</p><p>“Careful Donna, if your head grows any bigger it could affect your balance.”</p><p>“Enough talking FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” Kara chanted from the sidelines.</p><p>Diana pushed her long braid over her shoulder, gripping to wooden staff securely in both hands as they began to circle each other.</p><p>Diana struck first.</p><p>She quickly lifted her foot into the fighting stance she had become so attuned to, using the momentum of her body to bring down her staff- the first blow, aiming for the clavicle, only to be met by Donna’s defensive parry. In an attempt to take her off guard, Diana dropped her weight using her left foot to make a sweep at Donna’s ankles. If she could get her off balance, she might have a chance.  </p><p>Donna saw it coming and jumped back as Diana spun.</p><p>A sharp slap stung her back, sending needle pricks down her spine as the force of Donna’s counterstrike nearly sent her sprawling.</p><p>Stumbling she quickly regained her footing, just in time to block another hit.</p><p>The air cracked as their staffs collided.</p><p>Sweat running down her back, heart pounding in her ears, blood pumping through her veins. Her whole body felt alert, waiting to fly into action with pent up energy as crisp air filled her burning lungs. By the gods, she loved this feeling!</p><p>She’d never felt so completely alive!</p><p>They began to circle again, each looking for an opening.</p><p>Suddenly Donna lunged, twisting her staff, aiming toward Diana’s left knee.</p><p>Diana pulled her leg into the air, kicking the staff back, spinning on her right foot, and flipping the staff in her hands.</p><p>Donna tried to correct, twisting her torso to face her opponent but her balance was compromised.</p><p>Seeing her chance Diana hooked the end of her staff behind Donna’s and pulled!</p><p>The staff flew out of her opponent’s hands and landed on the grass several feet out of reach.</p><p>Bringing the other end of her staff flying she pushed it into Donna’s shoulder, finally toppling her balance and knocking her to the ground.</p><p>Slamming the end of her staff into the ground Diana smile triumphantly at the younger girl, laying on her back staring up at her.</p><p>“Do you yield?”</p><p>A proud smile steadily grew on Donna’s face as she nodded her head.</p><p>“I yield.”</p><p>“YES!”</p><p>Diana jumped up and down, the sound of the others’ cheers singing in her ears.</p><p>Offering her arm, she helped her cousin up. Donna gave her a pat on the back before heading to the sidelines, rubbing her shoulder as she walked.</p><p>Drunk on victory Diana grabbed her staff in both hands again, replaying the moment of triumph in her mind's eye, completely unaware of the giantess coming up behind her.</p><p>The cheers suddenly fell silent. A thick tension cutting the atmosphere.</p><p>Confused Diana looked to see the spectators watching intently something behind her.</p><p>She turned to see Barda picking up Donna’s discarded staff. Her dark gaze locked on Diana, making the girl’s blood turn to ice in her veins.</p><p>“Barda?” Diana nervously whispered.</p><p>She tentatively took a step forward only to jump back in the next instant.</p><p>The maid twirled the staff with frightening speed and skill.</p><p>Her movements were fluid and precise as she swung the weapon across her body, nearly colliding it with Diana’s head as the girl ducked in terror.</p><p>“Barda! What are you doing?” Diana yelled.</p><p>Her only answer was another jab of the staff, this time in her chest, pushing her back as her feet fought to keep up with her momentum.</p><p>Pain burned in her lungs as the air was sucked out and tears stung her eyes as she fought to breathe.</p><p>“S-STOP!” she pleaded but the relentless attack continued.</p><p>Barda brought the end of the staff up, cutting through the air like a knife, aiming for the girl’s jaw.</p><p>A reverberating CRACK beat in their ears as Diana blocked the blow. But the assault persisted.</p><p>Barda spun on the balls of her feet, swinging the staff.</p><p>Diana barely avoided a shattered ankle as she jumped out of the way, scrambling to react in time as she blocked another hit, this one aimed at her shoulder’s joint.</p><p>What was happening? Why was no one stopping this?</p><p>It took every ounce of strength she had to stay on her feet as each swing drove her further back across the green.</p><p>She didn’t have time to think. Her muscles taking over as she narrowly missed a black eye, her neck screaming in pain where the staff had clipped her.</p><p>Diana’s fingers dug into her staff with desperation, her knuckles turning white.</p><p>She screamed as Barda brought her staff clashing against her hand, but Diana refused to let go, too afraid of what would happen if she did.</p><p>Straining against the overwhelming force of Barda pushing her staff against Diana’s chest she felt a pounding in her skull. The larger woman’s eyes boring into hers, her steady trained breaths blowing hot against the teenager’s face.</p><p>The pressure lifted and Diana stole a glance to the sidelines. Desperately scanning for Artemis or Alexa. Silently begging them to help her!</p><p>She should never have looked away.</p><p>A loud, angry, cry made Diana jerk her head back to her attacker.</p><p>Barda raised her staff above her head, bringing it down with unparalleled power as it whistled through the air.</p><p>Diana raised her staff to block, the impact shattering the wood in her hands, splinters flying at her face.</p><p>She landed hard on the ground, staring up at the encroaching giantess.</p><p>Frantic Diana felt for the remains of her staff, never taking her eyes off Barda, but it was gone.</p><p>“I yield!” she cried, but the maid didn’t respond.</p><p>She tried to get to her feet but Barda’s staff was coming again.</p><p>Instinctively she raised her arm to block the blow,</p><p>The wood crashing against her leather bracer rippled up her arm with searing pain, she was shocked the bone hadn’t broken.</p><p>“I YEILD!” she screamed, clawing at the ground as she tried to crawl back from the attack.</p><p>The maid raised her weapon again and Diana squeezed her eyes shut tight in pure terror.</p><p>Suddenly Diana felt the smooth end of Barda’s staff resting under her chin, forcing her to raise her head.</p><p>Tentatively she opened her eyes to see the stern unbending gaze of Big Barda.</p><p>“You think this is a game, so you do not give your all.” The maid said, her strange accent rolling over the words.</p><p>“You think games are fair…This is not a game…A fight is never fair. You give everything or lose everything. Don’t hold back and live. Give up and you die.”</p><p>Dropping the staff at the girl’s feet Barda turned and walked back towards the house as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.</p><p>Breathing hard Diana watched her go, fighting the confusion that engulfed her.</p><p>Turning to look at the others she saw them watching the maid too. Frozen with stunned expressions of awe.</p><p>Exhausted she let her arms go limp and fell back against the grass.</p><p>
  <em>What just happened?</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Chapter 28: Arrivederci</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The honeymoon is coming to an end for The Cat and Bat.<br/>Time to see how their relationship fairs in ordinary life.<br/>The next Chapter is titled "A Better Life" and should be up by the end of the week! :)<br/>Thank you for reading and please review!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Chapter 28: Arrivederci</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Rome Italy, August 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Bruce, </em>
</p><p>“Delivery for you <em>Signore.</em>”</p><p>The footman held out a silver tray with a red velvet box resting on it.</p><p>Bruce took the case, opened it, nodded at the boy, and placed a few loose bills in his hand.</p><p>“<em>Grazie</em>.” The Duke replied, closing the door while the young man counted his tip.</p><p>Looking back at the jewelry box Bruce smiled. Closing it with a snap, he placed it on a marble-topped side table beneath a decorative gilt mirror.</p><p>His deep baritone voice filled the room as he began to hum a Viennese waltz. Checking his reflection, he smoothed his dark hair and ran a brush over his tailed jacket to be sure nothing had settled on the black velvet.</p><p>It was their last night in Rome. Tomorrow they would begin their journey home, so he wanted to be sure tonight was one his new wife would never forget.</p><p>Smiling again, he reached for the simple black domino mask, fastening it securely in place before giving himself a final once over in the mirror. Satisfied he picked up the case and headed towards the bedroom door at the far end of the suite.</p><p>He didn’t bother to knock but pushed the door open silently, watching as she finished getting ready.</p><p>Selina sat before a baroque gilded vanity, putting the finishing touches to her appearance, appearing oblivious to her admirer’s presence.</p><p>She wore a new evening gown with a white duchess satin underdress. Over that was a layer of delicate black silk gauze, gathered at the skirt in pick-ups, fastened with little bouquets of silk roses, also in black.</p><p>The off-the-shoulder bodice had a V-shaped neckline that was cut low enough to be just on the verge of scandalous. She looked like a cross between a widow and a bride but in all the best ways.</p><p>Bruce smirked; Selina knew how to leave an impact.</p><p>They had been on a continuous shopping spree since the wedding. Buying souvenirs, art, jewelry, and an entire wardrobe from the finest designers in the Italian peninsula. Purchasing so many dresses that she had yet to wear the same one twice! But this one was by far his favorite, he thought as he appreciated the sharp contrast of the black silk against her pale skin.</p><p>Taking his time, he let his gaze travel up her slender neck.</p><p>She had pulled her hair away from her face in soft twists, trying to make her square jawline appear more delicate, securing it in a high bun that was wrapped in a false braid, the same ink black color as her own hair.</p><p>A string of pearls ran across her forehead, fastening into the bun, and diamond pendants dangled from her earlobes. Lastly, black opera gloves that came to her elbow, slightly disguising the thinness of her arms.</p><p>Bruce found himself mesmerized as he watched her hold his mother’s pearl and diamond necklace up to her neck, giving a slight shudder as the cool gems touched her skin.</p><p>“Do you plan to continue staring or are you going to help?”</p><p>Shelina’s emerald eyes danced mischievously as she watched his reflection in the mirror, the corners of her crooked mouth curling up.</p><p>Bruce’s face grew hot under her gaze, but he fought to keep his expression composed as he came up behind her and fastened the clasp on the necklace. If he let her see how much she affected him then she would win the game, and Bruce did not like to lose.</p><p>Impulsively he leaned down, placing a kiss on her neck just below her ear.</p><p>She tilted her head to the side. Letting him continue as her eyes fluttered closed.</p><p>“You know my husband will be back any minute. I doubt he’d be happy to find a masked man kissing his wife.” Her sultry voice sent a shiver of desire down his spine.</p><p>“But what sort of gentleman would I be if I left without giving the Duchess of Gotham her present?”</p><p>Selina’s eyes flew open as she spun around on the stool.</p><p>“What present?”</p><p>Bruce chuckled at the child-like greed so clearly written on her face.</p><p>“Turn around.”</p><p>She hesitated, before slowly turning back to face the mirror.</p><p>“Close your eyes.”</p><p>She gave him a suspicious glare but complied.</p><p>Reaching into his pocket he retrieved the box. Opening it he took out an exquisite diamond brooch designed to look like a starburst. Carefully he pinned it to the front of her bodice.</p><p>“<em>Open your eyes</em>.” He whispered, placing his hands on her shoulders, and keeping his eyes trained on her expression reflected in the mirror.</p><p>Her entire face lit up with delight as she ran gloved fingers over the brooch. He smiled.</p><p>It did not matter if it was a flower or a crown, every gift elicited the same reaction of pure joy and rapture. He loved being the one to put that sparkle in her eyes, wanted to take care of her.</p><p>“I take it you like it then, Duchess?”</p><p>A flirtatious smirk pulled on her lips as she looked at him through dark lashes.</p><p>“It will do Mister Wayne.”</p><p>A low laugh rumbled from deep within him as he placed his finger under her chin, turning her face to kiss him.</p><p>“Come on Selina, we wouldn’t want to be late.”</p><p>He offered his hand, but she ignored it and turned back to her reflection.</p><p>Turning her head to the left and the right she checked her profile, being sure everything was just how she wanted it, before reaching for her own mask, securing it to her head with a ribbon. Like his, it was a black domino mask but hers was crafted to look like a cat.</p><p>“Now we can leave.” She announced, taking his hand, and allowing him to lead her out of their suite.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Later that Evening</em>
</p><p>The party was in full swing. Bruce had claimed her first two dances but was then called away to pay his respects to the hostess, some elderly Italian princess, who had been a friend of his parents.</p><p>He had been gone a while, but his wife was not lacking companionship as a steady flow of gentleman lined up to ask for a dance.</p><p>Selina curtsied to her latest partner as the dance came to an end. The French aristocrat led her back across the floor, kissing her hand as he let her go.</p><p>“Most charming <em>Madame</em>. I hope to have the pleasure of dancing with you again?”</p><p>His eyes looked eager, but his hopes were soon dashed.</p><p>“I believe I am next.” A deep voice said.</p><p>Selina smiled as Bruce came out of the shadows, glowering at the other man.</p><p>“<em>Pardon Monsieur</em>.” The noble said as he backed away slowly.</p><p>Selina laughed as she followed her husband’s lead back to the dance floor.</p><p>“You certainly seem popular tonight,” Bruce remarked, his voice tight.</p><p>“Why Mister Wayne, are you jealous?” she purred.</p><p>Bruce raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Of <em>le Monsieur,</em> No. But the other dozen or so admirers who have been monopolizing my wife’s time have become a tad irritating.”</p><p>Selina smirked.</p><p>“Well, if you are going to abandon your wife at a party, someone has to entertain her.”</p><p>His own smile grew, his eyes darkening flirtatiously.</p><p>“I would think such an intriguing woman was capable of entertaining herself for a short time. Do you lack patience Duchess?”</p><p>She shrugged her slim shoulders, slanting her green eyes away in a cool act of coyness.</p><p>“What can I say, I’m terrified of being bored.”</p><p>He leaned in to whisper in her ear, causing goosebumps to run down her neck.</p><p>“Then I shall have to entertain you.”</p><p>“I’m all ears rich-boy.”</p><p>The song ended.</p><p>Placing his hand on the small of her back Bruce guided her towards a corner away from the crush of the crowd.</p><p>“Wait here.”</p><p>She crossed her arms as she watched him hurry away, ducking into a side room that had a curtain pulled over the doorway.</p><p>“So much for excitement.” She muttered, taking a glass of champagne from a passing server.</p><p>A dozen conversations buzzed around her, but she did not know any European languages so amusing herself with eavesdropping seemed a lost cause.</p><p>Selina looked around the room, quickly finishing her drink while she waited. Suddenly the sound of English voices drew her attention as two gentlemen came to stand near her.</p><p>One had his back to her, concealing her view, but his voice carried easily to her ears. Careful to appear uninterested she tuned her hearing to the conversation.</p><p>“I don’t think you need to worry, Oliver Queen is not exactly known for his intellect. Even with Dent’s help, I doubt he’ll put up much of a fight.”</p><p>“Perhaps not, but I’m not taking any chances. My father was a fool to not contest the will, but I won’t be making the same mistake.” The man with his back to her bit out, clearly, he did not have fond memories of his father. “Still, this girl’s appearance is causing more problems than I had anticipated, and just when things were going so well.”</p><p>Selina’s interest piqued; this was proving to be quite an interesting turn of events.</p><p>“Who knew one little girl could cause so much trouble.” His friend said. “You don’t suppose there is any chance she’s a fraud?”</p><p>The other man shook his head.</p><p>“I haven’t seen her but from what I heard she’s a Princeton through and through.”</p><p>“Too bad.” The friend remarked, “That could have solved everything.”</p><p>“Don’t remind me.” The other man seemed to be growing angrier the longer this conversation continued. His friend also sensed it and tried to change the mood.</p><p>“You still have the title. You are a Duke now Elliot, she can’t take that away from you.”</p><p>“But what’s the point? Without the money the title is worthless!”</p><p>The friend’s voice took on a dark edge. “A title is never worthless. You have to use every asset you can get your hands on to succeed in life.”</p><p>The anger began to drain from Elliot. “I have to win, I know I promised to support your career and I’m going to, but I have to get that money first.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about me. If you can’t get me what I need I’ll look elsewhere.”</p><p>A cold chill enveloped Selina at the man’s tone, something about his voice made her think that Elliot <em>should</em> worry, he should be very worried.</p><p>Suddenly Elliot gave a bitter laugh, almost causing Selina to look up and break her cover.</p><p>“If only I hadn’t married Isabel. Then I could have made the girl mine and all my problems would be solved!”</p><p>“You never know,” his friend said cryptically, “An opportunity might present itself.”</p><p>“If only.”</p><p>“Quite intriguing this cousin of yours, what did you say her name was?”</p><p>“Diana,” Elliot bit out, seething with resentment. “Lady Diana Princeton.”</p><p>“Diana,” his friend said, trying out the name. “Lady Diana, interesting.”</p><p>Selina was practically crawling out of her skin trying to hear every word; this was getting better and better.</p><p>“Thinking of seducing her, Lex?” Elliot laughed but his friend did not appear to share his amusement.</p><p>“A long-lost heiress who’s the last holder of one of the oldest names in England, how could I not be curious?”</p><p>Elliot slapped his friend on the back with a laugh, clearly missing the underlining warning of Lex’s words. Selina rolled her eyes; this man Elliot was a buffoon. Whoever his cousin was she probably did not need to worry.</p><p>Starting to lose interest she began to glance around for a server to take her glass.</p><p>“You know maybe I will divorce Isabel and marry Diana. Then once her inheritance is legally mine I could always throw her in an asylum if she became bothersome.”</p><p>Selina froze, terror and fury raging through her at the sound of Elliot’s laughing words.</p><p>“And how would you manage that?” Lex asked with cool indifference.</p><p>“Simple Mr. Luthor just say she has hysteria and lock her away.” The two men began to walk away, oblivious to their eavesdropper.</p><p>Selina stood rooted to the ground, her chest heaving, anger burning through her, as a cold icy fear began to cloud her mind.</p><p>
  <em>Bastards!</em>
</p><p>The sound of her name brought her back to her surroundings as she felt a firm, but gentle hand rest on her shoulder.</p><p>“Selina, what happened?”</p><p>She turned to look at Bruce, his concerned evident as his eyes ran over her, trying to assess the situation.</p><p>He was taken aback by the pleasant, unconcerned, look on her face.</p><p>“There you are, done ducking into corners?” she teased but was met with a frown.</p><p>“What happened?” his voice was stern, and it took her off guard.</p><p>“Nothing, I’ve been waiting for you.” Her voice growing irritated with his confusing round of questions.</p><p>“Your hand Selina.”</p><p>She looked down to see small drops of blood dripping off her black glove. Crushed glass littered the floor, and her fingers were curled around the remains of her champagne flute. Her eyes widened in shock.</p><p>“<em>I didn’t realize</em>.” She whispered releasing the remaining glass, a painful burning seared her hand as she did.</p><p>“Come, we need to bandage that.”</p><p>He led her to a chair and carefully removed her glove, Thankfully the material had provided protection leaving only a thin cut across her palm. Bruce took out a handkerchief, ripping it into strips he expertly bandaged her hand to stop the bleeding.</p><p>“You’re pretty handy to have around.” She quipped with a small smile. “Where did you learn how to do that?”</p><p>“I went to medical school.” He replied, focusing on replacing her glove without disturbing his homemade bandages.</p><p>“You did?”</p><p>Bruce smirked at her stunned face.</p><p>“Until I dropped out of university.”</p><p>“And the mystery continues.”</p><p>“There, all fixed.”</p><p>He helped her up and began to lead her back to the room he had disappeared to before.</p><p>Inside was a gray backdrop hanging on a stand behind a stool. There was an odd contraption a few feet in front of it that looked like a wooden box on stilts.</p><p>The room was lit up with so many candles and gas lights that it looked like the sun was still up.</p><p>An Italian man came over and greeted them. Bruce and he quickly exchanged some words in Italian while Selina continued to study the box.</p><p>“What is that thing?” she asked.</p><p>“Daguerreotype <em>Signora</em>.”</p><p>“It’s a Photograph,” Bruce explained.</p><p>“A What?”</p><p>“You’ll see, go on.” Bruce smiled as he gave his wife a little push towards the stool.</p><p>She hesitantly sat on the stool as the photographer showed her how to arrange her hands on her lap and put the neck clamp in place to keep her head from moving. After several minutes of begging from the Italian man, Selina reluctantly removed her mask, handing it to Bruce.</p><p>The photographer let out a gasp at seeing her eyes in full view. He began to hover excitedly around her face, looking at them from every possible angle while his muse remained trapped by the neck clamp.</p><p>“Magnificent!” he gushed to himself. “With the green, and black, and tiny bits of gold, simply extraordinary!”</p><p>Normally Selina would have enjoyed the compliments, but this man was too close for her liking.</p><p>“Can we just get on with it?” she ground out.</p><p>“Oh, of course, my apologies <em>Signora</em>.” He returned to the camera, mumbling as he went, “like jewels, yes emeralds!”</p><p>Selina took a deep breath, trying to make her features natural as the man had requested.</p><p>The Italian ducked his head beneath a velvet curtain on the back of the box. After several seconds he reappeared looking concerned.</p><p>“Beautiful <em>Signora,</em>” He began, gesturing with his hands as if pleading with Venus reincarnated. “The process can take a long time, so it would be best if you do not smile.”</p><p>Bruce bit back a laugh with moderate success, turning away from the man while trying to gain control of himself.</p><p>Selina arched a dark s-shaped eyebrow and the Italian man fell in love all over again as her green eyes darkened with the shifting light.</p><p>“I wasn’t smiling.” She said.</p><p>The man looked confused and this time Bruce was unable to hold back as his snickering turned into a full-fledged laugh attack.</p><p> “That’s just her face,” Bruce amended, whipping tears from the corners of his eyes. “She always looks like the cat that caught the canary.” He smiled, gesturing to his wife’s naturally angled mouth.”</p><p>The man mumbled something in Italian but returned to his camera.</p><p>Selina gave her husband a quick wink, purposefully curling her crooked mouth into a flirtatious smirk while staring down the camera.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>—Bruce,</em>
</p><p>The Duke of Gotham stifled a yawn, this ball had gone on far too long for his liking.</p><p>It wasn’t that he hated socializing necessarily, but parties such as this tended to be taxing for his introverted nature. But he had been trying valiantly to enjoy himself and resist the temptation to call it a night for the sake of his Duchess.</p><p>Selina loved parties, anyone could see how much fun she was having, and he was loath to ruin it for her.</p><p>Bruce discreetly moved to another wall and made himself comfortable on a sofa. Keeping one eye on his wife who was being spun around the dance floor and the other staying trained on the Duke of Hever, who apparently hadn’t given up on trying to “run-in” to him.</p><p>Bruce had always had a distinct disliking for Elliot Hale and was not pleased to discover that he was also at this party.</p><p>
  <em>I would have thought he’d have better things to do right now than flitting through Europe on other peoples’ money.</em>
</p><p>He tried to banish his fellow countryman from his thoughts as he slowly nursed his drink. The song was ending, and he could see the lovely figure of his wife making her way towards him.</p><p>He stood, ready to offer her a dance but she motioned for him to stay sitting. Relieved he complied and was delighted when she joined him on the couch, watching the partygoers begin the next round of dances with a mysterious gleam in her eye.</p><p>“Bored Mister Wayne?” Her sultry voice purred.</p><p>“Not in the least Duchess.” He replied, taking another sip of his drink.</p><p>Her deep laughter caught him by surprise.</p><p>“You’re a horrible liar Bruce.”</p><p>“Am I?”</p><p><em>Mmm-Hmm</em> she nodded. “I can tell you’re bored stiff.”</p><p>He grimaced and looked at her apologetically.</p><p>“Is it that obvious?”</p><p>She laughed again at his sudden shyness.</p><p>“Let’s play a game Bat.”</p><p>Bruce’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he studied his wife, no part of her giving any clue to what she was thinking. Damn, but she could be difficult to read.</p><p>“What kind of game?”</p><p>Her grin grew as she tilted her head closer to his, like sharing a secret.</p><p>“A competition. We each pretend to get roaring drunk, but you can’t actually have a drink or else you lose, also if anyone catches on that you’re faking you lose.”</p><p>“But why pretend to be intoxicated?”</p><p>“<em>Because then they might tell us their secrets</em>.” She whispered, gesturing towards the other guests with her closed fan.</p><p>He laughed, “And why do you think that would work?”</p><p>Selina gave him a sly smile.</p><p>“People trust a fun fool. They aren’t suspicious of those they think they’re better than. And if that doesn’t work,” with a wink she tapped her cat mask, “everyone fears a mask.”</p><p>He felt himself being drawn in. “But how do we lie without seeming suspicious?” He challenged, curious to see more of how her brain worked.</p><p>She shrugged her thin shoulders.</p><p>“The best liars tell the truth. You have to want it to be true at least a little bit in order to be believable. That’s how a husband says he loved the wife he hit, or a child cries for the dog he kicked. A small part of them needs it to be true, and so does everyone else. That Bat is the art of lies.”</p><p>He studied her for a minute, mulling over her words. The calculating honesty seeming so at odds with the picture before him. A small smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth.</p><p>“Very well then Cat, shall we play?”</p><p>“The one with the best secret by the end of the night wins.”</p><p>They turned out to be better at this game than either of them had imagined, both turning in stellar acting performances that would make Shakespeare jealous, and by the end of the night had a wealth of secrets to share.</p><p>She was confident of victory as she told of an elderly aristocrat who had confessed his life-long love for his valet. But it was Bruce who won with the revelation that their hostess, the Italian Princess, had an illegitimate child in her late teens that was secreted away by her lover.</p><p>Selina conceded her defeat and admitted that Bruce might just be a better liar than she had first thought.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>—Selina, </em>
</p><p>She stood on the balcony overlooking the sleeping city, a breeze tugging at her nightdress.</p><p>Today had been perfect, absolutely perfect, she’d never had so much fun in her entire life! Oh, how she wished it wouldn’t end.</p><p>That was why she was still awake, trying to make the magic last for as long as possible before the morning came, and her fun ran out.</p><p>The stillness was broken as she heard a slight quickening of breath. Turning back, she quickly made her way to the bed on silent feet.</p><p>Kneeling beside his side of the bed she noticed how his previously peaceful face had turned hard, anger and fear warring as his panic grew. His breathing was growing more erratic as he began to mumble.</p><p>Placing a hand on his chest she felt his wild heartbeat like a drum.</p><p>“<em>Bruce?</em>” she whispered, trying to soothe his fears.</p><p>Gently stroking his forehead, she tried to ease the pain.</p><p>“<em>Shhhh</em>, <em>it’s alright, your safe Bruce</em>.”</p><p>His breathing began to relax at her touch.</p><p>“<em>It’s just a dream, it can’t hurt you, it’s only a dream</em>.”</p><p>His eyes flew open and he looked around the room confused, his gaze coming to rest on her.</p><p>“Selina?”</p><p>She gave him a small smile. “Expecting someone else?” Her attempted joke fell flat, and she internally cringed at herself.</p><p>Sitting up he turned to sit on the side of the bed, holding his head in his hands as he waited for his heart to stop racing.</p><p>Cautiously she sat beside him, slowly running her hand up and down his back to help calm him down.</p><p>After a long silence, he ran his hand over his face and let his arms rest on his knees.</p><p>“Sorry.” He said, still not looking at her.</p><p>She shrugged. “I was already awake……nightmare?”</p><p>He grunted.</p><p>“……was it your parents?”</p><p>She could feel his every muscle tense as she continued to rub his back.</p><p><em>*Sigh</em> “Yes.”</p><p>She nodded, letting the quiet return as she continued to rub his back and he stared at nothing.</p><p>Taking a nail, she hooked it under his chin and turned his brooding gaze to look at her.</p><p>“You know what the best thing for a bad dream is?”</p><p>He swallowed the tight lump in his throat that made it difficult to breathe.</p><p>“What?” he rasped, but she could hear the hidden plea buried beneath.</p><p>Gently she pressed her lips against his.</p><p>Drawing back, she put her mouth against his ear and whispered, “<em>A distraction</em>.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Chapter 29: A Better Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Chapter 29: A Better Life</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Haly’s Circus, (Current Stop) Rouen France, August 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—John Grayson, </em>
</p><p>“Again, again!”</p><p>The toddler laughed as he sat perched on the lowered trapeze swing.</p><p>“Hold on tight my darling.”</p><p>The sound of joyous squeals grew as the little boy was pushed on the swing by his adoring mother.</p><p>“Higher Mummy, higher!” He begged with bright eyes.</p><p>“So, you want to fly? Alright my little robin, I shall give you wings.”</p><p>Joining her son on the swing she raised them high into the air. With one hand firmly holding her little robin, the other grasping the cold bar of the swing they went soaring through the air, marveling at the complete lack of fear and pure delight on his small face.</p><p>From outside the practice tent John watched with a warm smile, his attention torn between the endearing scene, the job he was trying to complete, and the complaining teenager who had sought him out to listen to his woes.</p><p>“I can’t take it anymore Johnny, I’m telling you I’ve had enough! Traveling non-stop with hardly a chance to catch our breath before it’s on to the next town. Lousy pay, bad food, the whole train smells like elephant dung and old peanuts, and last night one of the chimps got loose and wound up sleeping with me in my bed!”</p><p>“Was it your first time Pete?” the older man laughed at the teenager while he continued to knot the ropes he was weaving into a new net.</p><p>“I’m serious Grayson, I’m done. I have half a mind to go to Haly right now and tell him I quit! I mean what kind of life is this?”</p><p>Exasperated the eighteen-year-old kicked a large crate that held the juggler’s equipment. He quickly regretted his action as he nearly broke a toe.</p><p>Still laughing, John helped the boy sit on the crate before going back to his work.</p><p>“What do you want to do Pete?”</p><p>The boy’s eyes lit up.</p><p>“I want to be a sailor!” He exclaimed, visions of adventure springing into his mind. “That’s a life for a man!”</p><p>“Life at sea can be hard too.”</p><p>“That’s right, you were a sailor, weren’t you?”</p><p>John nodded as he counted his length of rope, making sure he hadn’t misjudged the amount.</p><p>“I was, so was my father, and his father before him. I was practically raised on a boat; can’t say I remember much else.”</p><p>“How did you end up here?”</p><p>“Same old story, boy meets girl, boy falls in love.”</p><p>Pete glanced at the open practice tent.</p><p>“Your wife, Mary’s the reason you joined the circus?”</p><p>“In a manner of speaking. We were just kids when we met, about your age. We wanted to get married but neither of our families were too keen on the idea.”</p><p>“Is it because she’s a <em>gypsy</em>?” Pete asked, lowering his voice.</p><p>John calmly raised his head, making deliberate eye contact with the teenager.</p><p>“She’s <em>Roma</em>,” John corrected. “Gypsy is short for Egyptian, but they didn’t come from Egypt. They came from India.”</p><p>Pete had the decency to look sheepish.</p><p>“But yes, that was why. She was Roma, and I wasn’t. We ran off together, our families disowned us, but the circus welcomed us in. Haly didn’t care who we were so long as we kept our noses clean and were willing to work. We learned the trade and became acrobats.”</p><p>“Have you been here ever since?” Pete asked, trying to understand the appeal of continuing in this life.</p><p>“No. The circus was good to us, gave us a family, but you’re right Pete, a man will never become rich from it. I was frustrated, felt like I was letting Mary down cuz I couldn’t give her the kind of life I wanted to. So, when an opportunity presented itself, I went back to sea and Mary stayed here.”</p><p>“What kind of opportunity?”</p><p>John laughed at the boy’s eager face.</p><p>“Don’t get yer hopes up Pete, it was a rare offer. Some rich <em>toff</em> who wanted to learn how to sail and was willing to pay through the nose. I made more in a month working for him than three in the circus. There were no hard feelings though, Haly promised to look after Mary till I had saved enough to buy us a place.”</p><p>“If the deal was so good why did you come back?”</p><p>John turned again to the practice tent, a fond smile on his face as the sound of a toddler’s laughter drifted to his ears.</p><p>“While I was on a boat at sea, I became a father on land. When I heard the news, I was more determined than ever to save every penny I could. To give my son a better life than I ever had.”</p><p>He studied the rope in his hands, a look of regret passing over his face.</p><p>“He was over a year old before I got to see him. He was everything I had imagined and more……but he didn’t know who I was, his own father and he had no clue……”</p><p>He began to twist the ropes together to make them stronger.</p><p>“When I went back to the boat I began to think. I thought about the life I had planned for him, the life I wanted for him. And then I wondered, was it a better life if I wasn’t in it?”</p><p>It grew quiet.</p><p>“So, you came back for your son?”</p><p>John nodded.</p><p>“He may never go to school, his clothes will probably have to be patched to keep out the cold, and the world might never know his name.”</p><p>A warm smiled lit up his face.</p><p>“But I wanted to know my boy. I wanted him to have a father to remember, so that one day when he looks back, he’ll know that his father loved him, and gave him a better life.”</p><p>“Da!” a young voice excitedly cried.</p><p>With a huge grin on his face, John held out his arms to the toddler running towards him. Tossing him into the air the boy laughed and looked adoringly back at his father.</p><p>“Dick!” His father laughed, hugging his son close. “Have you been a good boy for yer Mum?”</p><p>“Uh-huh!” Dick nodded enthusiastically. “We flew!”</p><p>“Did you now?” John asked giving his wife a skeptical glance as she walked towards them.</p><p>“The youngest member of <em>The Flying Graysons</em> has to start training sometime.” She said with a guilty smile.</p><p>“But at two-years-old Mary?” John questioned.</p><p>His wife laughed and kissed her son’s cheek, running a hand over his dark hair.</p><p>“Look at him John, he’s got his Mum’s brown eyes and his Da’s reckless charm. Your son is a born showman.”</p><p>“Really? Well then,” John tossed the boy in the air again, eliciting a stream of giggles, “Richard John Grayson, would you like to fly again?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>City of Gotham, Kent England August 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Commissioner James Gordon, </em>
</p><p><em>Was it worth it?</em> He wondered as he looked at the sheet-covered bodies lined up on the ground.</p><p>The fire had thankfully been contained before spreading to the other buildings in the tenement row, but those on the top floors had found their escape cut off when the ceiling collapsed, blocking the stairs.</p><p>A few lucky ones had jumped out the windows. They were alive now, several badly broken bones and burns, but alive. But for the fifteen people crammed into the back apartment, where only three were supposed to live, there had been no way out.</p><p>The victims of unscrupulous landlords who lied to the authorities and overcrowded their renters in order to squeeze more money from a well that had run dry.</p><p>These people had come to Gotham searching for a better life. Would they still have thought it was worth it?</p><p>This group had just been some of the many that flooded into the rapidly growing city over the past thirty years. The overwhelming population growth had left the city busting at the seams and straining to accommodate them all.</p><p>They came from all over. Displaced Irish, Scots, and Welsh, immigrants from the Empire looking for more opportunities in the “mother country”.</p><p>Jews fleeing persecution or searching for a more tolerant climate, shady characters, and con artists looking to get rich quick in the booming industrial scene.</p><p>Retired soldiers and sailors with no skills for trade, landless farmers, and runaways. Disgraced women and wayward girls looking for work away from London’s prying eyes.</p><p>Poor artists and paupers of all sorts, and an ever-increasing number of Europeans that had found themselves being squeezed out by rising nationalist fervor at home.</p><p>All vying for work and food. The city beginning to segregate among the various groups as old tensions rose and money was consolidated.</p><p>The factories filled just as quickly as they were built. Shoddy tenements springing up along the river and growing outward as new buildings seemed to appear overnight. Some of them legally built, most of them not.</p><p>Mob bosses and hit men ran the lower sections of the city while the old money controlled the social scene and kept the poor in their place. Add in a few crazy lunatic criminals who seemed to find no greater joy than causing chaos and bloodshed to tie the whole thing together and the growing cesspool that was the City of Gotham was born.</p><p>One thing remained the same though. As the city strained and struggled against itself one truth remained constant, as the poor population grew so too did the wealth of the rich, feeding off it like a cancerous infestation.</p><p>Some of the scrappy or unscrupulous entrepreneurs did make it big, but most did not.</p><p>Still, the new money brought its own set of problems as they found themselves shut out by the elites, and a spending battle of extravagance ensued. Each trying to outdo the other and prove their value to the world, and probably themselves.</p><p>The waste of it all was sickening when so many in the city were dying of starvation, disease, lack of sanitation, and crime.</p><p>Gordon took off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes as he made his way back to the wagon, giving the coroner a chance to do his work.</p><p>He was tired, he was so tired.</p><p>Jim had worked so hard to try and protect this city, given more to it than he had his own family. He felt a deep ceded guilt at that reminder. But it wasn’t enough.</p><p>His hands were tied by the money and mob, both vying for control. He wasn’t free to truly do what it would take to clean up the streets and keep the people safe.</p><p>Maybe no one could.</p><p>He glanced back at the row of bodies as a loud clap of thunder rolled and the heavens broke with an onslaught of rain.</p><p>A better life, that was all they had wanted…a better life.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Wayne Castle, Kent England August 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Alfred Pennyworth, </em>
</p><p>Alfred smiled as he oversaw the opening of another crate of treasures the Duke had sent from Italy.</p><p>“Careful Howard, we wouldn’t want to nick anything.”</p><p>“Yes, Mister Pennyworth.”</p><p>The dignified butler continued to supervise the footman who was carefully prying the lid off with a hammer and chisel.</p><p>A group of housemaids, footmen, and kitchen staff began to gather around, eager to see what the ducal couple had sent back this time.</p><p>“Got it!” Howard exclaimed, eliciting a cheer from the crowd.</p><p>“Well done lad,” Alfred praised, giving the young man a pat on the back. “Samuel, give us a hand with the unveiling.”</p><p>The trio made quick work of dismantling the crate, revealing a medium-sized painting wrapped in canvas.</p><p>“I wonder what it could be this time?” a maid named Anne said.</p><p>“Probably another landscape,” someone replied.</p><p>“My money is on one of those myth paintings. Remember the last one had a lady wrapped in nuthin but ’a bed sheet?” commented a footman named Frank, rubbing his hands together eagerly.</p><p>“I’ll bet you a shilling it’s something biblical.” Added his friend.</p><p>“Make it three!”</p><p>The sound of Alfred clearing his throat brought the chatter to a stand-still.</p><p>“I would remind you, gentlemen, that this is a respectable house and there will be no gambling while you are employed under its roof.”</p><p>He cast a withering look at the two young men who quickly looked at their shoes with great interest.</p><p>A mumbled chorus of “Yes Sir,” and “Sorry Sir,” came from the guilty parties, who were sweating under Alfred’s stern gaze.</p><p>“Very good. Now, let us see what we have here?”</p><p>The butler pulled down the canvas and a murmured gasp of appreciation went up from the group.</p><p>It was a portrait of the newlyweds.</p><p>Bruce stood in the background in white tie and tails, his expression dignified and commanding, one hand held behind his back, while the other rested on his wife’s shoulder.</p><p>More than one of the maids took their time admiring the handsome figure. They were eager to catch a better look in person, curious to see if he lived up to the image.</p><p>Selina sat in the foreground wearing a stunning jade green gown that drew the viewer to her painted eyes. Her hair was in a high bun and the Wayne family tiara rested on her head. Platinum and diamonds with eleven ornamental spikes topped with emeralds, replacing the rubies that had previously adorned it. Clearly, the Duke had had it remade to better suit his new Duchess.</p><p>Her expression held an aura of mystery and beckoning. There was a barely perceptible smirk on her lips that seemed to be laughing. But whether her image laughed at or with you one could not tell for certain.</p><p>“It’s lovely,” Anne breathed, the rest nodding in agreement.</p><p>“Indeed,” Alfred concurred, his eyes misting over as he began to read the note attached to the frame.</p><p>The portrait was eerily similar to that of Master Bruce’s parents’ which hung in the main sitting room. This new interpretation had an echo of longing that clung to it, a desire to recreate the nostalgia of the original.</p><p>“Where does <em>His Grace</em> want it Mr. Pennyworth?” Samuel asked.</p><p>Alfred refolded the note, tucking it into his breast pocket.</p><p>“Second floor, north corridor, I’ll take it from there. Quickly now we have lots to do. The rest of you back to your duties, there is limited time to get the house ready before the Lord and Lady return.”</p><p>Having dismissed the staff Alfred followed the painting upstairs.</p><p>The note had simply asked that the butler find a suitable place to hang the portrait. The logical solution would be the main sitting room, but Alfred knew Master Bruce would never consent to move his parents' painting. But it didn’t matter, he had the perfect spot in mind.</p><p>It took a bit longer than he had anticipated to hang it without help but he managed. Now the Wayne family’s caretaker took a step back and proudly admired his work.</p><p>The portrait hung over the marble fireplace in Master Bruce’s bedroom, where Alfred hoped it would be a daily reminder of the happiness.</p><p>A moment of apprehension came over the older gentleman as he continued to stare at the painting. Thinking of the boy he had done his best to raise, the man he cared for like a son.</p><p>Alfred had had little choice but to stand back and watch all these years as Master Bruce ran.</p><p>Trapped in his grief from a young age the boy had studied languages, boxing, fencing, strategy, read more books than one could imagine, all with seemingly no goal but with fervor and fear that worried his guardian.</p><p>Alfred knew that his surrogate son had been searching. Searching for a way to keep his oath to his dead parents, a means to deal with his survivor’s guilt, and a way to bring some meaning back into his bleak and broken world. But despite his obsessiveness, he had never found a way to make any of those things a reality, driving the boy deeper and deeper within himself.</p><p>It was because he knew his pain because he could see this aimless struggle, that the faithful butler had not fought him, but allowed Bruce to pursue anything that might gain his interest.</p><p>In the beginning, he was just relieved that the boy showed an interest in something besides staring at the wall and refusing food so he had readily helped in any way he could. But as time went on and the obsession only increased Alfred began to think again about supporting Master Bruce’s “distractions.”</p><p>He had felt a modicum of relief when the young man had entered university, deciding to study medicine like his late father. Alfred had hoped that this would bring him a sense of self and purpose that might finally end all his running and isolation. Maybe he’d finally break free from the darkness that dwelt deep inside.</p><p>But then he’d dropped out and told Alfred in no uncertain terms that he was going to travel the world, learning to sail, and visiting the east…and so he left.</p><p>Without any knowledge of where he might be or if he were still alive, Alfred kept watch, faithfully caring for the house, and praying that his boy was safe. e</p><p>The butler waited alone in that castle for five long years. Anxiously awaiting every irregular letter, scrambling for word of those sparse visits to Clark or Oliver, longing that one of them might be to visit himself.</p><p>Still, he never gave up the belief that his young charge would return to his ancestral home for good, and now it seemed his faith had finally been rewarded.</p><p>Master Bruce was married, he was coming home, and hopefully, this whole business of oaths and missions could, at last, be laid to rest once and for all.</p><p>Perhaps now his boy could find happiness…would realize that he still deserved to.</p><p>Alfred looked at the couple painted before him, knowing how happy the late Duke and Duchess would have been to see their son starting a family of his own…he just prayed that this time it would be a happy ending.</p><p>“Now Master Bruce, make a better life.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Kent Townhouse, London England August 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Clark Kent, </em>
</p><p>He missed his father.</p><p>Clark wished he could have just one more conversation, one more moment with his Pa. He needed to ask for his advice, to feel the love and comfort that always came with his presence. To know that there was someone he could lean on when questioning what the right thing was to do.</p><p>He felt his wife place gentle hands on his shoulders, taking some of the tension away.</p><p>“Are you sure?” he asked softly.</p><p>She increased the pressure on his shoulders, slowly rubbing them, trying to pass her strength and reassurance to him.</p><p>“I’m sure Farmboy. I never wear it anyway; I prefer the laurel tiara if I have to walk around like a decorated wedding cake.”</p><p>He snorted at her joke and her lips curled into a small smile, taking it as a good sign that he would get through this, would not lose that ever hopeful resilience that she found both infuriating and admirable.</p><p>“I’m so sorry Lois…I never wanted to involve you in this…didn’t want you to worry, to suffer.”</p><p>Lois’s brow creased as she moved in front of her husband. Kneeling next to his chair she placed her hands on his forearm, tightening her grip until he looked her in the eye.</p><p>“Now you listen to me Clark Kent. I am not some weak or docile lady who needs to be protected from the facts.”</p><p>She paused, making sure he was hearing what she said.</p><p>“I am your wife. I’m your partner, in everything… for better for worse, in sickness and in health, <em>for richer or poorer</em>…This was my idea, and I won’t regret it.”</p><p>He appeared so weary and defeated. He tried to look away, but she tightened her grip on his arm, making him return her gaze.</p><p>“I know you feel like you are supposed to handle this all on your own,” her voice softened. “I know you just want to protect everyone, to give us all a good life, but you don’t have to do it alone. I’m glad you finally told me the truth…I’m not stupid you know.”</p><p>Lois raised a reproachful eyebrow.</p><p>“I have never thought you were stupid.” He said.</p><p>“I knew months ago how bad our finances are. I was just waiting for you to trust me enough to share it.”</p><p>Clark looked away.</p><p>“I’m not good at looking at the bright side of things,” Lois continued, “that’s your specialty. But you <em>haven’t</em> failed Clark. And I can promise you one thing,”</p><p>Impulsively she cupped his cheek with her small hand, turning his face back to hers. “I don’t run away from a fight, and we will get through this together.”</p><p>The longer he looked at Lois’s firm set jaw and determined violet eyes the more the weight that had settled on his chest began to lift like she was helping make the burden that was slowly crushing him bearable again. It gave him an inkling of hope that all the sacrifices would be worth it in the end.</p><p>He slowly nodded his head.</p><p>Giving a reassuring smile she got up from the floor and shook out her skirt before giving him some final instructions.</p><p>“Now, you are going to take that circlet, sell it, and pay for the girls’ education. It will last far longer and be more valuable to this family than that piece of jewelry ever could.”</p><p>Lois gave him another reassuring pat on the shoulder, knowing that this decision was still going to be difficult for him, before leaving him alone again.</p><p>As an afterthought she shouted, “It’s damn heavy anyway!” as she left, bringing a bemused smirk to her husband’s face.</p><p>Clark looked bleakly at the object in his hands, carefully balancing it on his open palms.</p><p>It was beautiful, small, fitting neatly in one of his hands.</p><p>The Lonworth Circlet.</p><p>Made of gold and white diamonds, crafted into a design of standing pansy flowers on top of a double band of diamonds separated by gold myrtle leaves all the way around.</p><p>It had been worn by every bride in the Kent family for the last one hundred and sixty years, including his grandmother, mother, and wife…but not his sister…Kara would never wear it, but she would be better educated than most girls could ever dream to be.</p><p>Yes, he had to do this.</p><p>“<em>But Ma must never know</em>.” He whispered to himself.</p><p>His shame would not allow it. He couldn’t bear the thought of her knowing how close his father brought them to ruin.</p><p>He didn’t want his Pa’s reputation sullied, especially for his mother. In Clark’s eyes Jonathan Kent had been the greatest father he could have asked for, and the kind of man Clark hoped one day he might be. So, he preferred to take the blame for the mess he’d inherited and allow his father’s image to be left untarnished.</p><p>No, Ma could never know that he had sold his inheritance…to give the girls a better life.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Chapter 30: Summer’s End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Song sung in this chapter is called "The Jug of Punch".</p><p>Second, I thought it might be nice for you to know some of my INSPIRATIONS for the character PHYSICAL descriptions/appearances. (Just in case you were confused with what I was going for in my descriptions)</p><p>Diana: Olivia Hussey (Her Face Structure and Eyes)<br/>Bruce: Ben Afflick (As Batman with stubble)<br/>Hippolyta: Diane Kruger (As Marie Antionette)<br/>Zachary Princeton/Zeus Troy: Gregory Peck (Just in general but mostly in To Kill A Mocking Bird)<br/>Selina: Audrey Hepburn (Around the mid-1960s)<br/>and Vivien Leigh (Pretty Much any Period Film She Did)<br/>Clark: Henry Cavill (As Superman)<br/>Lois: Tuppence Middleton (As Miss Havisham in Dickensian and Helene Kuragina in War &amp; Peace)<br/>Oliver: Jude Law (As Dr. Watson but with blond hair!)<br/>Kara: A young Cara Delavine (Found a picture of her as a child that fit perfect)<br/>Donna: Penelope Cruz (Her Face Shape and Eyes)<br/>Cassie: Kristen Dunst (As Amy March)</p><p>Thank You So Much For Reading and PLEASE REVIEW! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Chapter 30: Summer’s End</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Lancashire England September 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Diana Princeton,</em>
</p><p>“Well done Diana! Look how far you’ve come, little sister.”</p><p>Alexa praised as the sixteen-year-old finally managed to complete a perfect full split!</p><p>Face flush with excitement Diana tried to lean her torso as far towards her foot as she could, wondering how long it would be before she could touch her nose to her knee like Donna and Cassie did.</p><p>She had found during this summer that she was not naturally flexible, unlike Kara who didn’t even seem to have bones given how quickly she’d mastered these exercises. But what Diana lacked in talent she made up for in determination, grit, and competitiveness.</p><p>She hated feeling like the weak link in the group. Every time one of the other girls or Alexa tried to take it easy on her it made her that much more determined to push through the pain and prove herself. She would work harder than any of them in order to bring her skills up to par.</p><p>Artemis was the only one to demand the same perfection of her as the rest. In fact, sometimes she wondered if her cousin held higher expectations of <em>her</em> than for the other girls. On more than one occasion she had admonished the younger girl for becoming discouraged too easily, insisting that she had more potential than she knew.</p><p>
  <em>“It is from those who have to work the hardest that the greatest achievements are born. You have to struggle for what nature did not naturally provide, but when you finally beat her, she will give you a greater reward than those who were given everything but did nothing.”</em>
</p><p>It was this prophetic advice that replayed daily in her mind, spurring her on. Artemis believed in her, in what she could be, and Diana wanted more than anything to prove her right, to make Artemis proud.</p><p>Ready to move on to the next set of stretches Diana stood up and began to dust the dirt and grass off her legs.</p><p>“<em>Eww</em>,” Cassie grimaced, pointing at the back of Diana’s leg. “How did you get that one?”</p><p>Diana looked over her shoulder, curious as to what Cassie was talking about. She saw a long cut on the back of her thigh with a line of dark red blood dripping down her leg. Diana frowned as the pain registered in her brain. Why did wounds never hurt until you saw them?</p><p>“I’m not sure,” She said, wiping away the blood with her hand, but only managing to smear it. “I must have hit a rock.”</p><p>Donna walked over to see what all the fuss was about and winced at the sight of her cousin’s, now much bloodier looking, leg.</p><p>“That’s pretty deep,” the brunette observed, “Maybe you should have Aunt Alexa look at it for you.”</p><p>“I WANT TO SEE!” Yelled Kara as she rushed to join the spectator sport.</p><p>Not enjoying being the focus of attention Diana tried to brush it off.</p><p>“It doesn’t even hurt that bad, besides, it will probably be gone in a couple of days. I’m a fast healer.”</p><p>Donna shrugged, “Suit yourself,” and went back to her place on the field, seeing that Artemis and Alexa’s conversation was ending, and training was about to start again.</p><p>Cassie gave a dramatic shudder as she too went back to her spot. Kara however continued to gaze in fascination at the cut.</p><p>“Can I touch it?” she asked, reaching out a hand.</p><p>Diana quickly slapped the younger girl’s hand before it could get close enough.</p><p>“NO! Get out of here, go on.” Hands-on-hips Diana pointed towards Kara’s spot on the field.</p><p>Glaring Kara marched back to her place, arms crossed, making sure Diana knew she was fuming. She had been wanting a battle scar all summer and now Diana was being so selfish about letting her see the cut, it wasn’t fair.</p><p>The Twins rejoined the little sisterhood and began leading them in the next set of stretches.</p><p>Diana rolled her eyes at Kara’s antics and began stretching her arms, ready to start working on her backbend, when she noticed someone walking down the lane towards the house.</p><p>“Who is that?” she asked, pointing towards the solitary figure in the distance.</p><p>Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned toward the road.</p><p>Wary expressions crossed their faces as they all began, cautiously, stalking closer to the house, trying to make out who the intruder was.</p><p>An excited gasp split the air and they all snapped their heads to look at Cassie who was jumping up and down, her big blue eyes dancing with joy.</p><p>“It’s father!” She cried, taking off towards the man who was drawing closer to the house, waving, and shouting as she ran.</p><p>The man dropped a large sack from his shoulder and held out his arms to the little girl, catching her and swinging her in the air with a laugh.</p><p>Setting Cassie back down, he removed his Navy’s cap and placed it on her small head, picked up his bag, and sauntered towards the rest of the group, a huge grin on his face as Cassie followed adoringly at his side.</p><p>Diana turned to see why Donna had not also run to her father but found the eleven-year-old standing rigid and stiff. Her face was like stone as she watched the man coming towards them.</p><p>The atmosphere grew thick as Diana and Kara observed the way Artemis crossed her arms and widened her stance while Alexa raised her chin in the air, clasping her hands firmly in front of her. Only Cassie seemed oblivious to everyone’s change in behavior as she prattled happily to the man who laughed heartily at what she said.</p><p>He came to a stop in front of them and Diana felt a nagging twitch tugging at the back of her mind. There was something familiar about him.</p><p>He was the tallest man she had ever seen, standing at seven feet, perfectly proportioned, with rugged good looks and a lean muscular frame that moved gracefully. Olive toned skin tanned from life at sea stood against dark blackish-brown hair with just a hint of deep red glinting in the sun.</p><p>The one trait that denoted the three elder Troys as family, besides their unusual height, were the deep-set, downturned, brown eyes he shared with elder sisters.</p><p>Sensing someone watching him the man turned. His eyes ignited with interest as he ran his gaze up and down, examining every part of her. It made her skin crawl, she felt exposed and vulnerable beneath his intense study.</p><p>His smile spread as he gave her a sly leer. Diana felt she was going to be physically sick. Every fiber told her to run away from this man and never turn back, but that same frigid dread kept her rooted where she stood.</p><p>She suddenly realized why he seemed so familiar.</p><p>He was the mirrored image of the man in the portrait Aunt Martha had given her of her parents, though truthfully Diana had never thought of it beyond her mother’s likeness until this moment. It was like the painting had become animated and started walking about. They could have been twins, except for the hair. The painted man’s locks were darker, with no red.</p><p>“Hello, Philip,” Alexa said politely but there was an underlining urgency to her tone, making him drag his gleam of deviltry gaze away from Diana.</p><p>He gave his sister a dazzling smile that was a beautiful act but held no real affection, lazily assessing her. His handsome good looks melted into the background as his charismatic, yet turbulent, nature rose to the surface.</p><p><em>Everything about him feels false</em>, Diana thought.</p><p>“Alexandra,” his deep base hummed, vibrating the air like low thunder. “It’s good to see you still don’t care what others think of your appearance.”</p><p>Alexa’s lips thinned but she managed to keep her expression neutral while her little brother’s glee was palpable.</p><p>A throat cleared over his shoulder and his pleasant demeanor dropped. Kara and Diana took an involuntary step back at the look of hatred that flickered in his flinty eyes before the façade went back up. From somewhere behind Diana could feel Barda come to join them and she felt a small measure of relief.</p><p>Turning to Artemis he presented a wolfish grin. There was a bloodlust to do battle with this sister as a true opponent whereas the other was simply a plaything.</p><p>“Artemis,” he growled.</p><p>“Zeus,” she grunted, her eyes narrowed into slits.</p><p>He sneered, baring his white teeth. “How’s the eye?”</p><p>Diana could sense Alexa stiffen at his words, her fingers curling into fists. Artemis didn’t flinch.</p><p>“I can see you’re still alive,” she smirked, her dead eye staring unseeing at his face. “Pity, I had thought the sea might have finally killed you this time. I guess I will just have to pray harder.”</p><p>The haughty air sucked from Zeus’s face as the corner of his lips shot down.</p><p>“Donna!” he barked.</p><p>Diana and Kara jumped but Donna stood still.</p><p>He turned, the friendly expression back as he locked eyes with his eldest daughter.</p><p>“Aren’t you going to greet me?” he said in a loving tone but there was something about <em>the way</em> he did that sounded more like a warning.</p><p>She didn’t move, her voice was cold and emotionless.</p><p>“Why don’t you come here?”  </p><p>This was clearly not the response he had wanted as a scowl marred his face.</p><p>“Donna don’t be difficult.” Cassie chided, tightening her hold on the man’s wrist.</p><p>Slowly, begrudgingly, Donna went and stood before her father, who patted her on the shoulder with a heavy hand. His confident demeanor returned.</p><p>“There now, that wasn’t so hard.” He laughed.</p><p>Donna remained silent and moved closer to her sister.</p><p>“Are you staying long?” Cassie asked with bright eyes, hanging on to his wrist.</p><p>Zeus smiled and freed himself from the child’s grasp then ran a hand through his youngest’s golden curls.</p><p>“Just for tonight,” he said.</p><p>It was obvious Cassie was fighting back her disappointment. Zeus however shinned a show-stopping grin.</p><p>“Which is why I’m taking my girls into town for a fancy dinner and maybe stop by the music hall. What'd ya say?”</p><p>Cassie’s eyes lit up like stars as she squealed in delight, but Donna remained stoic.</p><p>“It’s Diana and Kara’s last day with us,” Donna softly asserted. “We are supposed to have a goodbye party tonight.”</p><p>Zeus brushed her words aside with annoyance. “We’ll be back in plenty of time for all that. Now go on and get ready, put on your prettiest dresses, and let’s go have some fun!”</p><p>Cassie ran into the house. Donna cast a look at both her aunts before quietly following her younger sister inside.</p><p>“So,” Zeus began, bringing his eyes back to Diana. “You’re Hippolyta’s girl?”</p><p>“She’s <em>Zachary’s</em> girl.” Artemis corrected with a sneer that Diana didn’t understand the direction of. Was the malice in Artemis’s words directed at her brother, her cousin, or Diana?</p><p>Zeus’s smile hardened at his sister’s words, but he pretended to ignore them.</p><p>“<em>Hippolyta’s</em> daughter.” He repeated.</p><p>Diana raised her chin defiantly, refusing to let him see the unsettling feelings that were coursing inside and made her want to run scared.</p><p>Zeus snorted. “Oh yes, Hippolyta to a T.”</p><p>He took a step closer, Diana stood taller.</p><p>“We were good friends you know, your Mum and I.”</p><p>The teenager faltered, overwhelming curiosity fighting against her instincts that told her not to listen to him.</p><p>“…Really?” she tentatively asked.</p><p>Zeus leaned in, tilting his head, so he was looking down at the girl.</p><p>“In some ways…the very best of friends.”</p><p>Artemis scoffed and her brother bristled, turning back around.</p><p>“Still don’t know when a conversation doesn’t concern you, <em>eh</em> Artemis?”</p><p>The older woman’s face turned red with rage.</p><p>Artemis curled her hands into fists, ready to break every bone in his smug face, but Alexa stepped in front of her, acting as a shield between the two.</p><p>“Would you mind collecting the post while you are in town brother?” she asked with a sweet voice. “Mrs. Pond holds the letters for us at the inn.”</p><p>Zeus gave Artemis another hateful glare before grunting his agreement to Alexa’s request.</p><p>“We’re ready!” Cassie’s cheerful voice broke the tension, allowing them all to take in a deep breath.</p><p>She came skipping up next to her father, followed by a sullen looking Donna. Both were wearing the wool tartan dresses from last Christmas. Donna tugged down the sleeves of the dress that was now to small.</p><p>In an instant Zeus’s demeanor and mood changed again and he was once more the jovial charmer.</p><p>“Right then, let’s be off!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>After 11 o’clock that night</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Diana Princeton</em>
</p><p>Nothing had gone right since the interruption of Phillip ‘Zeus’ Troy’s arrival that morning.</p><p>There had been no more training, no farewell party, no stories, no laughing, no chores. All the five of them had done was pack and cast repetitive glances down the dirt road, waiting for the father and daughters to return.</p><p>The sun had set, and Alexa had sent them to bed while she and Artemis kept watch from the library window.</p><p>Barda lay motionless on her pallet by the door, and Kara had fallen asleep hours ago, her lite snoring a calming assurance of that fact. But Diana couldn’t sleep. She sat on her bed staring at the two empty cots beside her, occasionally flitting her gaze back out the window to the road, grateful that the full moon made it easier to see.</p><p>It felt so strange without them here, so quiet. They had never not been in this room when Diana had gone to bed and she found loneliness with their absence. It was like the order and nature of their strange little world here had been shattered and could only be whole again once their missing sisters were safe at home again.</p><p>A horse whinnied and Diana snapped her head towards the window. Standing she squinted against the glass, making out the silhouette of Philippus in the distance slowly trotting down the lane.</p><p>“<em>Good horse</em>,” Diana whispered, relief coursing through her as she began to smile. “<em>Bring them home Philippus</em>.”</p><p>Quietly, to not wake anyone, she exited their room and crept down the stairs, heading for the front door.</p><p>Just as she was reaching for the doorknob, she jumped, the sound of Artemis and Alexa’s powerful footsteps closing in.</p><p>“I don’t like it! What gives him the right to show up and disrupt everything?”</p><p>Swiftly ducking into the room by the front entrance Diana found herself in the dusty confines of a parlor that was never used. The Twins' voices though could still be heard through the door.</p><p>“He is still their father Artemis.”</p><p>“<em>Bah!</em> As if that is such a noble thing.” Diana could feel her cousin’s rage through the door. “Any male can make a child but that is where their usefulness stops. He is no father! He’s a spoiled child who sees those children as nothing more than toys to amuse him.”</p><p>Diana heard Alexa give a weary sigh and their footsteps grew quieter, apparently, they had gone back to the library.</p><p>The clopping of hooves made her turn and scurry to the window, which luckily faced the front of the house and had several broken panes which made eavesdropping most convenient.</p><p>Diana watched in surprise as she saw Donna walking towards the front door, reins in hand as she led the horse home. On its back was a very drunk man, singing and shouting at the top of his lungs a song whose words kept changing. Sitting in front of him, hands outstretched, singing her heart out like the greatest <em>Prima Dona</em> to grace the stage, was Cassie.</p><p>Diana’s concern escalated as it became apparent that Cassie too was intoxicated, though not at the blackout level of her swaying companion.</p><p><em>What kind of man gives alcohol to a child?</em> Diana’s furious mind raged.</p><p>She wanted to go out there and beat some sense into the slosh but was wary of making the situation worse.</p><p>As they drew closer the exuberant singing of the man’s deep base and child’s airy soprano assaulted the night.</p><p>“<em>What more diversion could a man require,</em></p><p>
  <em>Then to settle down by the ale-house fire,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>With a fine red pippin to crack and crunch,</em>
</p><p><em>And on the table a jug of punch</em>.”</p><p>Zeus swayed on the horse's back, his smile growing as he tried to swing his body side to side in time to the muddled music in his head.</p><p>Donna brought the horse to a stop. She looked tired but otherwise emotionless.</p><p>She patted the horse’s head, offering it gentle words, before dropping the reins and making her way around to its side.</p><p>“Come on Cassie, it’s time to go in now.” Donna held up her arms and caught her sister as she slid off the horse’s back in a fit of giggles.</p><p>Zeus let out a loud belch and began another verse of the tune while Donna tried to keep Cassie steady on her feet.</p><p>“<em>If I drink too much, well, me money's me own,</em></p><p>
  <em>And them as don't like it can leave me alone,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But I'll tune me fiddle and I'll rosin me bow,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And I'll be welcome wherever I go.</em>
</p><p><em>Too-ta-loo-ra-loo, too-ta-loo-ra-lay</em>,”</p><p> </p><p>BANG!</p><p> </p><p>The front door burst open, causing Diana to jump and duck, in case she was caught spying. But no one could have noticed her with the spectacle going on in the front yard.</p><p>Artemis crossed her arms, seething, as she glared at her brother who blew kisses to an imaginary crowd. Alexa cast resigned eyes up at him as he started serenading the horse.</p><p>“<em>And when I'm dead and I'm in my grave,</em></p><p>
  <em>No costly tombstone will I crave,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Just lay me down in my native peat,</em>
</p><p><em>With a jug of punch at my head and feet</em>.”</p><p>Alexa instantly switched focus to the girls.</p><p>She put a reassuring smile on her face as she took in the sight of her nieces, but it was tight, and the corners of her eyes didn’t wrinkle as they normally did when she smiled.</p><p>“Donna dear, why don’t you take your sister up to bed.” Alexa took another hard look at Cassie, who had laid her head on her sister’s shoulder. The little girl’s curls were damp and clumped heavily against her face. “But first, go out back to the pump, and see if you can rinse the gin off.”</p><p>Donna nodded at her Aunt and hoisted Cassie up a bit in her arms as she carried her towards the back of the house.</p><p>Alexa and Artemis turned to their brother, who clutched an empty bottle to his chest like it were a holy relic and the key to his salvation.</p><p>Tears sprang into his eyes as he hoarsely repeated the chorus again.</p><p>“<em>Too-ta-loo-ra-loo, too-ta-loo-ra-lay,</em></p><p><em>Too-ta-loo-ra-loo, too-ta-loo-ra-lay,</em>”</p><p>The sisters stood and watched as he leaned too far to the left and slid off the tall mare’s back like a limp rag doll. He landed with a smack on the soggy earth.</p><p>He gave a bitter cackle as he wheezed. Laying his head down in the mud he stretched out his arms, lifting the bottle to the sky, and slurred out the last lines, as if even in his drunken state he could appreciate the poetic justice of it all.</p><p>“<em>Just lay me down in my native peat,</em></p><p><em>With a jug of punch at my head and feet</em>.”</p><p>He dropped his arms and closed his eyes, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips, as he once more mumbled through the chorus and slipped into unconsciousness.</p><p>“<em>Too-ta-loo-ra-loo… too-ta-loo-ra-lay…Too-ta…loo…ra-loo…too…loooooo…</em>”</p><p>The twins stared at him. Once it was obvious, he wouldn’t be getting up again Alexa heaved a relieved sigh and took a step towards the drunkard.</p><p>“Leave him,” Artemis bit out, “it serves him right. Let him wallow in the mud where he belongs.”</p><p>Alexa didn’t look at her twin, but Diana could see her shoulders slump slightly at her sister’s bitter words.</p><p>“This is <em>his</em> house Artemis; he has the right to sleep in it.”</p><p>Artemis scoffed as she glared down at the snoring man with pure hatred.</p><p>Alexa turned caring eyes to her twin, the second half of herself whom she had never been without.</p><p>“And he is <em>our</em> brother.”</p><p>Artemis huffed and grabbed the horse’s reins, leading Philippus to the stable. Anger shook the ground with each stomp as she turned her back on her sister, leaving Alexa to clean up Zeus’s mess.</p><p>She watched until her sister was out of sight. A loud snore broke the silence. Alexa gave another heavy sigh, closing her eyes she turned her face up to the sky. “Hera give me strength.”</p><p>Looking back down, Diana saw a flicker of rage morph her cousin’s normally calm face.</p><p>Alexa swung a long leg and give her brother a swift kick in the side. The teenager flinched. Zeus didn’t move but gave another loud snore.</p><p>Her passion vanished as quickly as it had come, and the older woman’s normal temperate demeanor returned.</p><p>Alexa reached down and grabbed one of his arms. With incredible strength, she pulled his arm over her neck and hoisted his long body over her shoulders. The bottle dropped from his hand and rolled against the brick façade of the house.</p><p>Like a huntress with her kill Alexa strained to adjust the weight across her back as her brother’s head lolled from side to side. With a deep breath, gritted teeth, and determination set in her jaw, she carried him into the house.</p><p>Diana waited until she heard Alexa’s heavy footsteps disappear down the hall before creeping out of her hiding place and bolting upstairs to the bedroom.</p><p>Careful to not be caught she slowly closed the creaky door, tip-toed past the still form of Barda on the floor, and slipped onto her cot, burying her head beneath the quilt, desperately trying to calm her rapped heartbeat and irregular breathing before Donna and Cassie came in.</p><p>The door groaned again as it opened and Diana snapped her eyes shut, holding her breath, mentally chastising herself for not facing Kara instead when she laid down.</p><p>The door groaned and small footsteps pitter patted across the wood floor.</p><p>Hesitantly Diana opened her eyes, creating a small peephole in the blanket to sneak a peek at what was happening.</p><p>Donna carried Cassie over to the cot between her own and Diana’s. She laid her down and the little girl sleepily mumbled the song her father had been singing. A happy smile lit up Cassie’s face as she closed her eyes and sang.</p><p>“<em>Even the cripple forgets his hunch,</em></p><p><em>When he's snug outside of a jug of punch</em>.”</p><p>Donna went to work pulling off her sister’s boots, next moving to her stockings, and finally fighting against Cassie’s wiggling as she undid the buttons on her damp tartan dress.</p><p>“<em>Too-ta-loo-ra-loo, too-ta-loo-ra-lay,</em></p><p>
  <em>Too-ta-loo-ra-loo, too-ta-loo-ra-lay,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Even the cripple forgets his hunch,</em>
</p><p><em>When he's snug outside of a jug of punch</em>.”</p><p>She was methodic in her movements as she began getting the nine-year-old dressed for bed.</p><p>Cassie gave her sister a quick peck on the cheek and then giggled as she lifted her arms for the nightdress to be lowered over her head.</p><p>Donna’s lips remained in a thin line, her eyes expressionless. She seemed far older than her eleven years at that moment, nearly unrecognizable from the laughing and fun girl she had been just that morning.</p><p>The younger girl frowned as her sister pulled the nightgown over her head. Surveying the room with blurry eyes.</p><p>“Why are we back here?” she groused.</p><p>Donna bent her head down, squinting to see the tiny row of buttons on Cassie’s nightdress in the moonlight.</p><p>“Because Artemis and Alexa are here.”</p><p>Cassie blew out an exaggerated huff, making her lips flap like a horse. The little girl pushed her sister’s hand away, not wanting her to finish buttoning the nightdress.</p><p>Donna calmly batted the child’s hand back and continued fastening the tiny buttons.</p><p>Cassie glared down at the now secured buttons, then erupted into a fit of giggles, flopping back against her pillow.</p><p>“I love going to town.” She smiled.</p><p>“I know you do Cassandra,” Donna replied, tucking the covers around her sister so she wouldn’t roll off in her sleep.</p><p>“Someday I’m going to be an actress!” Cassie exclaimed, opening her eyes, and looking at the ceiling as if she could already hear the applause and see the stage lights.</p><p>Donna didn’t answer but instead began taking off her own dress and shoes.</p><p>“I will wear lots of beautiful dresses, eat in fine restaurants, have chocolate whenever I like, won’t that be fun?”</p><p>“I’m sure it would,” Donna commented, her back turned to the others as she put on her nightdress.</p><p>“And I’ll never have to see Lancashire again!” Cassie let out a contented sigh as she rolled onto her side to face Diana, closing her eyes as her mind began crafting dreams of faraway places and adoring crowds.</p><p>Donna was still, slowly turning toward her sister. She watched Cassie’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm as sleep claimed her.</p><p>Carefully, the older girl sat on the edge of the younger’s cot. Donna reached over and softly moved a gold curl out of her little sister’s face, brushing the tips of her fingers across her forehead before retracting her hand and placing it in her lap.</p><p>She continued to observe the serene smile on Cassie’s face like she was searching for something in her sister’s expression that she couldn’t find.</p><p>“<em>Never</em> is a long time Cassie,” Donna whispered. “You might get lonely.”</p><p>Donna got up and crawled into her own bed. Stretching to the nightstand she picked up a silver locket, running her thumb over its surface before closing her fingers around it and holding it to her chest as she settled into her pillow. She cast one more fleeting glance at the sleeping form of her little sister before closing her eyes and going to sleep.</p><p>All was quiet as Diana removed the quilt from her head. She looked around at all her sleeping cousins, feeling a protective love swell up in her chest. She didn’t fully understand everything she had learned today, but she knew that no matter what she would help them in whatever way she could.</p><p>She smiled to herself as she laid back down to go to sleep. Despite the confusion of today something wonderful had happened this summer. A sisterhood had formed between the six of them, one that she knew would last the years to come.</p><p>“Next summer sisters,” Diana whispered to her sleeping companions, “we shall be together again.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Chapter 31: Not Entirely Forgotten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry, this one took a while. I was finishing up finals and then started the next chapter before realizing this one should probably come first.</p><p>The song used in this chapter (and others to come) is called Yalla Tnam Nada by Bachar Mar-Khalifé (feat. Golshifteh Farahani). Though I believe it is based on a traditional song/lullaby and not an original composition. Also, Nada is a name that can be replaced with the name of whomever you are singing to.<br/>I got the English translation from https://www.bacharmarkhalife.com/yalla-tnam-nada but since I wanted the Arabic translation to be in Latin letters I had to do that myself. I am not a speaker of Arabic (though I hope one day) and I deeply apologize for any and all mistakes. But I tried my best with using online translation tools and hopefully, it is recognizable to those of you who do speak this beautiful language.</p><p>More Character Physical Inspirations:</p><p>Shayera: A blending of Clara Paget (as Anne Bonny in Black Sails) and Golshifteh Farahani.</p><p>Nadira: Kelly Gale (she's a model)</p><p>Dinah Lance-Queen: A mix of Alicia Vikander (as Kitty in Anna Karenina) and Florence Pugh (as a blonde)</p><p>Thank You so much for Reading and Please Review! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Chapter 31: Not Entirely Forgotten</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Palace Harem, Kingdom of Dagra Coast of the Arabian Sea September 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Princess Shayera bint Garsiv,</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Yalla tnam yalla tnam,</em></p><p>
  <em>ladbahla tir al-hammam,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>roh ya hamam la tsedk,</em>
</p><p><em>badhak a nada latnam</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Shayera watched from the corner as the old nurse sang a lullaby to the broken woman curled up at her feet.</p><p>Fadeela’s voice was aged and trembling, carrying all the heartache and sorrow that had befallen them as she brushed fingers through her broken child’s thinning hair, helpless to save her from this grief that had destroyed the once proud queen.</p><p>Nura remained curled on the cold floor, as her childhood servant continued to sing. The beaten and torn remains of a pillow clutched tightly to her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Yalla tnam yalla tnam,</em></p><p>
  <em>ladbahla tir al…al—"</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Fadeela’s voice broke, unable to go on, as she dissolved into tears.</p><p>Shayera quickly crossed the room and helped the old woman to her feet.</p><p>“Go and rest for a while, we will take over.” She nodded toward Fawzia who was instantly by her side, helping her superior out of the room to her own chamber.</p><p>The Princess knew she could rely on Fawzia to not leave the old nurse until she had fallen asleep. So, for now, it was going to be just herself and Nura.</p><p>Sighing, she crouched down on the floor, so she was face to face with the huddled woman. Shayera tried to give her a warm smile but she didn’t feel it was very convincing.</p><p>“It’s time to get up Nura. Your supper is ready.”</p><p>Nura blinked at the younger girl, easily complying as Shayera began to lift her up into a sitting position.</p><p>Once upright, Shayera brushed the gray strands out of Nura’s face and patted her cheek like a small child.</p><p>“Good, see now that’s better.” She praised in a sweet tone, feeling the smile plastered on her face slowly become more genuine. “You wait here like a good girl while I go get your soup alright?”</p><p>The woman didn’t respond but started to caress the tattered rag in her arms. Shayera sighed again, wondering why she continued to try.</p><p>She had retrieved the bowl from a nearby low table and was bringing it back to her charge when she heard a sharp intake of air behind her.</p><p>Just barely managing not to spill the soup she spun around to face the intruder only to freeze in equal shock at the uninvited guest.</p><p>“Nadira?”</p><p>The older girl tore her gaze away from Nura and gave a sad smile to her younger sister.</p><p>“Hello Shayera, I’m sorry to interrupt but I couldn’t find a servant to announce me, so I let myself in.”</p><p>Shayera stiffened and gave her sister a sharp glare.</p><p>“That’s because there aren’t any servants. Thanks to <em>your</em> mother.”</p><p>Nadira flushed but didn’t avert her gaze.</p><p>“So…they are really all gone?”</p><p>Shayera reluctantly let her guard down a bit at hearing the concern in the young woman’s voice.</p><p>“All but Fadeela and Fawzia. They are all that is left.”</p><p>Nadira nodded, returning her gaze to the shrunken figure on the floor who looked through them like ghosts.</p><p>“<em>I never imagined it was this bad</em>,” Nadira whispered and Shayera scoffed.</p><p>“No, I don’t suppose you would, considering you cared <em>so much</em> before.”</p><p>Shayera turned her back on her sister and began to rejoin Nura, only to be stopped by the pull of Nadira’s hand grabbing ahold of her arm just above the elbow. She snapped her head back, ready to destroy the girl with all her pint up fury, precedent of birth be damned! But Shayera hesitated before the hard brown eyes that bore into hers.</p><p>There was no fear or bruised pride in Nadira, she was calm, frighteningly so, as she tightened her grip on the younger girl’s arm.</p><p>“Take out your frustration all you want little sister but remember who is responsible for your sufferings and who like you is forced to shelter in the wings.”</p><p>Shayera jerked her arm free, seething as her captor returned her contempt with a smile. She should have known better. Nadira had always been immune to her tantrums, she had experienced far worse from Shani to ever be intimidated by Shayera’s temper or tongue.</p><p>Deciding to just ignore her the younger princess took her bowl and returned to kneel on the cool marble floor before Nura. She could feel her sister’s keen eyes watching them, but she refused to acknowledge her presence.</p><p>“Here you go Nura, open up.”</p><p>The older woman didn’t obey, a river of soup ran down her chin, pooling in her lap.</p><p>“<em>Aw!</em>” Shayera grumbled, hurriedly trying to wipe up the liquid with her hand before it ruined Nura’s silk pants. However, Nura pushed her hand away as Shayera fought to clean up the mess.</p><p>“Stop it Nura.” She protested but the woman did her one step better and slapped the girl’s cheek.</p><p>It didn’t hurt, those bony fingers had hardly enough strength to lift a spoon let alone leave a mark, but the attempt still stung.</p><p>Silently reminding herself that Nura hadn’t meant it, she didn’t even know Shayera was, she tried again. Nura slapped her hand away again and moan something primal and animalistic at her, like a <em>hiss</em>.</p><p>“Fine then,” Shayera bit out. “leave it, what do I care?”</p><p>She was about to attempt giving her another spoonful when her gaze fell on the tattered and foul rag of a pillow clutched to Nura’s chest.</p><p>Shayera’s eyes widened in panic as she saw the huge splatter of thick green soup. Frantically she tried to wipe it off, Nura fighting against her.</p><p>Shayera’s mind was scrambling for ways to save the rag. She’d have to wash it, or it would sour and mold, leaving the whole place smelling like rotting food. That would be unbearable.</p><p>Then an even worse thought struck her, what if it made Nura sick!</p><p>Desperate, Shayera began pulling on the rag, trying to free it from Nura’s grip but the old woman clutched it tighter and screamed, beating Shayera’s arm with her free hand.</p><p>“Listen-listen to me. I just need it for a moment, I’ll give it back.”</p><p>The woman didn’t listen and instead bared her teeth, attempting to bite the girl’s arm.</p><p>“No, Stop it Nura!”</p><p>Shayera pushed her forearm into the frail chest to keep the snapping teeth away.</p><p>“I promise I’ll give it back, but I need to clean it first.”</p><p>Nura shook her head violently as tears streamed down her cheeks.</p><p>Out of nowhere, the little woman gained an animal strength as she screamed, enraged eyes seeing Shayera for the first time as she pushed against the girl’s chest.</p><p>Shayera rolled back, catching herself, but not before Nura knocked the bowl out of her hands. It went flying across the room, landing in an inglorious swamp of green soup.</p><p>The girl stared at the ruined meal, liquid running across the marble floor in all directions. She could feel it sticking to her arms and dropping from her hair in thick globs.</p><p>While her attacker was distracted, Nura, backed herself up against the raised pallet bed, whimpering like a wounded animal, as she clung to the rag, eyes darting fearfully around the room, not recognizing anything she saw.</p><p>Tears stung Shayera’s eyes as she looked at the mess. Bitterness welled up inside her as she ground her teeth and turned hurt filled eyes back on the cowering gray-haired figure.</p><p>Standing to her feet she stormed across the floor, towering above this creature who was just an empty shell.</p><p>“I am trying to help you!” She yelled, “why can’t you see that?”</p><p>Her voice became hoarse as she fought down the tears that scalded her throat. “What is it going to take for you to stop fighting me?”</p><p>Her lungs burned with each breath as the hurt she had kept locked up for so many months poured out.</p><p>“She’s gone!” She cried. “She’s gone and she is <em>never</em> coming back. But I’m still here.”</p><p>Nura looked blankly as she stroked the pillow.</p><p>“<em>UGH!</em>” Shayera screamed, “Don’t you understand? I’m trying my best, but you can’t even see me.” </p><p>Still, the old woman looked through her. Shayera fell to her knees, clinging to her boney shoulders, willing Nura to recognize the girl in front of her.</p><p>“Please Nura…Please just <em>see</em> me…Please.”</p><p>Nothing changed. Shayera’s voice was strained.</p><p>“I want to help, but I don’t know what to do…tell-tell me what I need to do…how am I supposed to fix this?”</p><p>Still, nothing, no one heard her.</p><p>Suddenly she shook the older woman with a fury. “LOOK. AT. ME!”</p><p>“That’s enough.”</p><p>Shayera came back to her senses, the words like a cold bucket of water on her bitterness. A firm hand pulled her away from Nura and helped her stand.</p><p>Releasing her Nadira looked her sister up and down.</p><p>“You should go and get changed, wash the soup out of your hair.”</p><p>Shayera struggled to find her voice which came out barely above a whisper.</p><p>“I-I can’t, Nura—”</p><p>“I think you two have had enough of each other for right now.” Nadira gave her sister’s hand a squeeze. “Go take care of yourself, I’ll sit with her until you return.”</p><p>Reluctantly Shayera nodded, leaving the two as she made her way out of the dark cell and into the bright afternoon sunshine of the courtyard.</p><p>It was like waking from a bad dream, going from darkness to light, as she made her way to her own room.</p><p>Once changed and clean she returned to find Nadira sitting cross-legged on the floor, ladling soup down Nura’s throat.</p><p>Shayera was shocked by the peaceful scene, cautiously approaching.</p><p>Nadira smiled at her, “look Nura, I told you Shayera would come back. See I told you she wasn’t mad.”</p><p>Shayera dropped to the floor, eyes locked on Nura’s blank face.</p><p>“She spoke? She asked if I was mad?”</p><p>“Well, not in so many words, but I figured that was what she was concerned about.”</p><p>Shayera scrunched her face. “What did she say?”</p><p>Nadira put another spoonful of soup into the woman’s mouth. “Your name.”</p><p>Shayera looked at Nura, a small spark of hope beginning to form, maybe it wasn’t too late. New tears constricted her throat, but Shayera stubbornly pushed them back. Needing a distraction from the emotional fatigue she noticed something in Nadira’s hand.</p><p>“Where did you get that?” she asked, nodding toward the new soup bowl.</p><p>“Fawzia brought it and cleaned up the spill. She also managed to get that filthy rag out of Nura’s hands. She left to clean it right before you came in.”</p><p>Shayera’s eyes flew back to Nura, surprised to see that the rag was indeed gone. The woman’s hands were resting peacefully in her lap.</p><p>“<em>Nicely done Fawzia</em>,” Shayera mumbled, thinking maybe she hadn’t given the slave enough credit.</p><p>“Go get a comb, Shaye,” Nadira ordered. “See if you can manage to save what’s left of her hair.”</p><p>Shayera obediently retrieved the comb and sat on the bed, feeling an unexpected sense of relief at not being the one in charge for a change. She slowly began to battle the snarls and tangles that had all but destroyed the once glorious mane.</p><p>Nura began to squirm and swat at the tugging on her scalp. Shayera froze, but Nadira put a gentle hand on the woman’s cheek, calmly shooshing as she soothingly reassured her that everything was alright.</p><p>Nura relaxed and Shayera let out a breath before continuing in her task, working her way from the bottom to top, and wincing as the rats’ nest of discarded gray strands grew at her feet.</p><p>There was a comfortable silence, a welcome change from the tense mournfulness that normally permeated this place.</p><p>Shayera found herself smiling as she made more headway on Nura’s hair, contemplating ways they might convince the older woman to let them give her a bath.</p><p>“I didn’t forget you know.”</p><p>“Huh?” Shayera was pulled from her thoughts by her sister’s voice. Though she didn’t fully register what she’d meant instead focused on a particularly tough knot.</p><p>“You think that I’ve forgotten her, that I didn’t care when Alab sent Amira away. But you’re wrong.”</p><p>Shayera’s good mood vanished.</p><p>“Don’t say her name.” she ground out.</p><p>“Why?” Nadira’s voice was so calm it was infuriating.</p><p>“Because! You don’t get to say her name, you did <em>nothing</em> to try and save her.”</p><p>Nadira watched her sister, contemplating her words, as she lifted another offering of soup to Nura’s lips.</p><p> </p><p>“And what did you do Shayera?”</p><p> </p><p>The eighteen-year-old jerked her head up in surprise. “What?”</p><p>“I said, what did <em>you</em> do to save Amira?”</p><p>Shayera’s heart began to hammer against her chest.</p><p>“W-Well, I-I…um…well that is…I wanted to-t-to…”</p><p>Nadira’s expression was sympathetic.</p><p>“You did exactly what you could do, what any of us could do…<em>nothing</em>.”</p><p>Shayera stared at her sister, silent, still, dead. Then the girl dissolved into shaking sobs, the guilt, and frustration she had been burying down since the day her little sister had been stolen away drowning her.</p><p>She didn’t notice Nadira come and sit beside her, she didn’t feel her gentle hands stroking her hair, or comprehend the arms holding her close. It wasn’t until she’d run out of tears that she recognized the soothing presence of her big sister holding her.</p><p>She tried to push her away, trying to meet the twenty-two-year-old face to face. But Nadira wasn’t going to release her so easily.</p><p>She gave her sister an understanding smile before again enveloping her in a hug.</p><p>Shayera sat frozen, not returning the gesture but not fighting it, as Nadira’s arms encircled her, the rounded point of her chin resting on top of Shayera’s head.</p><p>“Dagra has five princesses,” Nadira’s soothing voice began, “and I have <em>four</em> sisters.”</p><p>Nadira took a shaky breath “Amira, will always be our sister, no one can change that. Not Alab, not my mother, not England, or distance, or time. She will always be one of us in our hearts. It is not enough but it is all we have.”</p><p>Shayera closed her eye tight against the hot tears that came against her will. Tears were so useless if only her body would understand that. Crying wasn’t going to change anything.</p><p>Nadira was quiet, giving her time to grieve while continuing to stroke the teenager’s red hair.</p><p>“I know you miss her.” She continued. “I miss her too. But she is not the sister who I worry about, you are.”</p><p>Shayera was afraid to move as she focused on a few tears that rolled down her lashes and dropped on to her linen pants.</p><p>“Sultana is the long-suffering princess. She accepts her fate and does not fight against those who use her for their own advantage.”</p><p>Shayera thought of the eldest of the Sultan’s daughters, with her selfish husband and five energetic sons who were becoming just like him. She had been given as a fourth wife to a general who Alab had failed to adequately pay.</p><p>The quiet and skittish Sultana who had said no more than ten words to Shayera in her whole life. How had she ever envied the woman for being freed from Alab through marriage? She wasn’t free at all.</p><p>“Shani is the favored princess. She is spoiled and proud, but that has made her weak. She will not survive when hardships come.”</p><p>This last revelation was made with a note of sadness that surprised Shayera, given the two’s history together.</p><p>“Amira is the stolen princess.” Nadira swallowed the lump in her throat. “she has been taken away and forced to create a new life far from home.”</p><p>Grief again assaulted her as she silently begged Allah, if he was listening, to protect Amira from the foreigners who had stolen her.</p><p>There was a pause.</p><p><em>I would name you, the laughing princess</em>. She thought with a smile, remembering the time Nadira had hidden all Fayza’s left shoes.</p><p>“And you Shayera, are the forgotten princess.”</p><p>The girl’s breath stilled.</p><p>“You’ve fought your whole life to be noticed. But Alab, the women, our siblings, they ignore unpleasant things. However, you remember everything. Every slight, every laugh, every joy, every pain, they are all engraved on your heart. That is why it hurts so much to think they have forgotten you when you will never be free of their memory, good or bad.”</p><p>Shayera latched on to Nadira’s arm, holding on as if she too might disappear without warning.</p><p>“You fear <em>she</em> has forgotten you too. That you are nothing if unseen, blown away by the desert wind and lost.”</p><p>Nadira cupped the girl’s face in her hands and raised it to hers.</p><p>“But you are not forgotten Shayera…not by me.” She brushed a dark red strand out of her face.</p><p>“You are my little sister. I may not have the power to protect you, but I will <em>never</em> forget you, and I will always fight for you.”</p><p>Nadira wrapped her in another tight embrace as Shayera fought against the unfamiliar tide of emotions coursing through her.</p><p>It was too much; it was all too much. She couldn’t handle having someone to rely on again. She appreciated Nadira’s words, but she didn’t know what to do with them.</p><p>“I’m fine now.” Shayera asserted, pushing out of Nadira’s embrace.</p><p>The older girl was hesitant to move, but eventually nodded, and went back to sit in front of Nura, who as usual hadn’t noticed anything happening around her.</p><p>Shayera returned to combing Nura’s hair while Nadira fed her soup.</p><p>They both knew that they would likely never again speak of Amira or what had been said today, but it had been said and that mattered.</p><p>The comfortable silence returned and Shayera took a moment to observe her sister.</p><p>Nadira was beautiful, though few remarked on it. Reflected in her was the beauty of her Sudanese mother and the regal bearing of their father’s Arab and Turkish heritage.</p><p>Long black hair, brown skin, almond-shaped amber eyes, full lips, thick brows, a little nose, and large ears. Yes, like all the women in the palace, she was a beauty.</p><p>But Nadira was also kind, a practical jokester, and had a keen understanding of when to strike and when to wait.</p><p>Shayera had admired her for years, but now she wondered what fundamental difference there had been between them.</p><p>Both were born into the same life of royal privilege that had given Nadira an open compassionate heart but made Shayera closed-off and mistrustful of good-intentions. What had been the difference?</p><p>“What’s that sound?” Nadira asked, perplexed as she watched Nura twitch her hand and sway back and forth.</p><p>Shayera listened, deciphering the broken tune the woman was humming.</p><p>“She wants Fadeela,” Shayera replied as she began to braid Nura’s now tangle-free hair.</p><p>“But why is she humming a lullaby?”</p><p>Shayera shrugged. “Fadeela sings it to her, it seems to calm her down.”</p><p>Nadira nodded before raising the last spoonful of soup to the woman’s lips.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Sleep Nada, sleep,</em></p><p>
  <em>I'm about to strangle a pigeon, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Don't worry pigeon, I won't do it,</em>
</p><p><em>I'm telling her stories so that she falls asleep</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Shayera couldn’t help the small smile that curved her lips as Nadira sang the familiar song.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Sleep Nada, sleep,</em></p><p>
  <em>I'm about to strangle a pigeon, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Don't worry pigeon, I won't do it,</em>
</p><p><em>I'm telling her stories so that she falls asleep</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>The teenager’s smile grew as she remembered that Nura had spoken for the first time today when she had said Shayera’s name. Maybe she hadn’t forgotten everything after all, at least not entirely.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Tichitchi tichitchi,</em></p><p>
  <em>The apricots under the apricot tree,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Every time the wind is rising, </em>
</p><p><em>I'll pick an apricot for Nada</em>…”</p><p> </p><p>No, not entirely forgotten.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Chapter 32: A Day in Court</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bruce and Diana Reunited Next Chapter<br/>I hope to have it uploaded by Saturday<br/>Thank You for Reading &amp; Please Review! :)<br/>(MAKE SURE TO READ THE TIME STAMPS)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Chapter 32: A Day in Court</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Hever House, London England October 1838</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Zachary Princeton,</em>
</p><p>“No! I won’t say it again, now get out of my house.”</p><p>“I am your oldest friend, I cannot in good conscience let you continue with this stubborn plan anymore.”</p><p>“And you wonder why I chose Oliver over you to be executor. Damn your good intentions, Robert! I am not changing my will.”</p><p>“Be reasonable Zach, she’s been dead for eight years. What is the point of dragging it out when you know how this will end?”</p><p>“Are you so devoid of imagination that you haven’t figured it out by now? It is because it is <em>unreasonable</em> that I won’t change my mind. That’s the point!”</p><p>“How can you be so petty?”</p><p>“Have we <em>just</em> met?”</p><p>“Come on, Edmund Hale is a good man who doesn’t deserve to be bullied out of what will be his by right. Even for you<em>,</em> this has become ridiculous.”</p><p>“Has it, has it really?" he leaned forward, brown eyes narrowing.</p><p>"Why should I make it easier for him to get what is mine, what has always been mine, and what should only have gone to the child that was mine?"</p><p>His voice was rough and raw with hatred.</p><p>"You all expect me to roll over and happily hand my family’s inheritance to that fanatical puritan just to make it easier on the rest of you. Well to hell with that. I intend to make my death as difficult on the world as it made life for me.”</p><p>He fell back against his chair but continued to glare at his friend who watched him with a pained expression.</p><p>“Zach, I know you will never get over what happened, but this isn’t the way to deal with your grief. Believe me, I understand your loss but—”</p><p>“Do you Robert? Oh, that’s right, I had forgotten that our lives are entirely the same. Why don’t you remind me how before going back to your <em>living</em> wife and son.”</p><p>Robert Queen let out a defeated sigh before playing his last card.</p><p>“It looks bad, a stain on your name and reputation. This isn’t what Hippolyta would have wanted.”</p><p>Zachary choked out a harsh laugh.</p><p>“This is <em>exactly</em> what Hippolyta would have wanted.” His watery eyes shone bright with bitter regret. “For me to die alone and angry and see everything I have...<em>*sharp breath</em>...go to someone else.”</p><p>He shook as a coughing fit attacked and he reached for the glass of water beside his lounge chair.</p><p>“But I don’t have to accept my daughter’s death as fair, or an act of providence, or whatever bloody words fools use to console themselves. This is the only thing I have left to fight back with. It was supposed to be hers, not theirs, and they will have to fight to take it.”</p><p>“Even if it’s a fight you know you cannot win?”</p><p>Zachary Princeton turned a bemused smile to his friend as if Robert was the one to be pitied.</p><p>“Isn’t that all life is?”</p><p>His friend stood.</p><p>“Fine, I give up. Do whatever you want Zach.”</p><p>“I intend to. Now, Get. Out.”</p><p>Robert nodded, knowing he wouldn’t be welcome here again.</p><p>“Goodbye Princeton.”</p><p>Zachary’s face softened slightly.</p><p>“Enjoy your family Queen.”</p><p>The door closed and he was alone. Good, he liked it better this way, when had that happened?</p><p>There was a soft knock before the door creaked open again.</p><p>The irritated retort died on his lips, replaced with a broad grin, when a blonde head popped out from behind the door, gray eyes dancing with mischief.</p><p>“Canary?”</p><p>“Hello, Uncle Zach!”</p><p>The girl skipped across the floor and planted a kiss on his forehead.</p><p>“And what are you doing here?” he asked, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.</p><p>“Oh,” she sing-song-ed as she wandered around the room, “I wanted to check up on you.”</p><p>“<em>Mhm</em>,” Zachary grunted with a knowing smirk. “Top left of the fireplace mantle.”</p><p>She flashed him a guilty smile as she plucked the pipe from the marble ledge, lit it, and happily puffed away as she made her way back across the rug to her uncle.</p><p>He held out his hand and quirked an eyebrow expectantly. Reluctantly she handed over the pipe before making herself comfortable, sitting on the arm of his chair.</p><p>He took a few long drags of the tobacco before removing a tin of peppermints from his waistcoat and handing them to his niece.</p><p>“I would hate to give your mother even more reason to think I’m a bad influence.”</p><p>She took a mint and shrugged.</p><p>“She doesn’t care what I do.”</p><p>“And where is the Captain?” He wondered why Benjamin hadn’t come up with his daughter. “Did he get stopped by Robert downstairs? Poor chap.”</p><p>“No, <em>Papa</em> is with his regiment.”</p><p>Zachary nearly choked on his pipe, staring horrified at the girl’s nonchalant face.</p><p>“Do you mean to tell me that you came here by yourself?”</p><p>She laughed and took the pipe from his hand, enjoying another inhale.</p><p>He snatched it back.</p><p>“I know the way; I’ve done it before.”</p><p>“By god’s teeth Dinah, it’s half-way across London, never mind if it is the better half it’s still dangerous for a young girl to be out alone.”</p><p>Dinah laughed and patted his arm.</p><p>“I can take care of myself. Besides, it’s deadly dull cooped up in the house all day. You wouldn’t even know <em>Mama</em> was there if it weren’t for her stacks of books shifting.”</p><p>“Not that she’s great company.” He snorted while his niece laughed.</p><p>“It’s not all bad. I do what I want, and she does what she wants, neither need to see each other unless convenient.”</p><p>Zachary gave a hearty laugh that unfortunately turned into another coughing fit. Distressed, Dinah took the pipe from his fingers.</p><p>“Should I call for the doctor?” she asked heading toward the door.</p><p>“No…*<em>cough</em>…no, it will pass.”</p><p>He motioned her back, and she resumed her place on the chair arm.</p><p>“You shouldn’t smoke so much.” She scolded.</p><p>“And you shouldn’t smoke <em>at all</em>.” He again retrieved the pipe from her fingers and gave a wink. “So, are you going to tell me why you’re really here?”</p><p>He gave her a knowing look and Dinah tilted her head demurely.</p><p>“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Can’t I visit my favorite uncle?”</p><p>Zachary breathed out a cloud of smoke. “I didn’t know Jonathan was in town.”</p><p>Dinah rolled her eyes. “Fine. Why do you think I’m here?” she countered, crossing her arms.</p><p>He smiled and tapped the pipe over an ashtray.</p><p>“If I were to place money on it, I’d say you snuck around to see a young lad named Ollie, not a cantankerous old man who smokes too much.”</p><p>She blushed and he laughed again.</p><p>“Well, would that be so wrong?” she gave him an angelic expression she knew he couldn’t stay angry at.</p><p>“No, foolish but not wrong.”</p><p>“How is it foolish?” she asked, moving to sit on the ottoman by his feet.</p><p>“You are far too good for him Canary. But I don’t think you would ever find yourself a more devoted fan.”</p><p>Dinah’s young face lit up with excitement.</p><p>“So, you agree it would be a good match if we married?”</p><p>“At 16? No. I don’t think anyone should be in a rush to wed. Then again, I wasn’t, and look what it got me…maybe there is no right answer. But I’d still suggest waiting four or five years, just for him to grow up a bit.”</p><p>Dinah scowled, clearly, he was not being the great support she’d hoped for.</p><p>“Don’t worry little songbird, the Queens adore you and your parents couldn’t care less who you marry. When the time comes, you’ll have your Oliver Queen on a silver platter, just make sure he works a bit before you say yes.”</p><p>Her smile returned as she got up and gave him a peck on the cheek.</p><p>“No go on and see your Robin Hood. He’s probably loitering downstairs waiting for a chance to see you.”</p><p>“Would you like to talk to him, Uncle Zach?”</p><p>“No, I’m tired.”</p><p>“Should I send up a servant?”</p><p>“That’s alright, I think I’d prefer to just nap here in my chair.”</p><p>She tip-toed towards the door, stopping at the last moment to stick her head back in before closing it.</p><p>“I’ll see if I can kick the Queens to curb for you, sleep well.”</p><p>“Thank you, Dinah, goodbye.”</p><p>She closed the door, and he was alone again.</p><p> <em>A sweet girl, probably the nicest of the whole prestigious lot. I hope Queen doesn’t take too long asking to marry her or she just might leave. Ha-ha. The poor lad wouldn’t think the sun could rise without her.</em></p><p>He breathed a shaky sigh and leaned his head back to rest.</p><p>When he opened his eyes again the sun had set, and a dark shadow lay over the house.</p><p>A figure stood in the corner, an ethereal specter, with her back to him.</p><p>He knew in an instant who it was.</p><p>He tried to rise to meet her, but his legs wouldn't obey his commands. He could only sit, and look at her, his unobtainable Queen.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, Hippolyta.” He took a shallow breath, “Funny that you’d be the one to visit me…at the end.”</p><p> </p><p>Silence.</p><p> </p><p>Then she turned.</p><p> </p><p>Once shimmering azure eyes now dull and dark, pale skin had become ashen, and the thick yellow hair that shone like gold was faded to silvery white.</p><p>Her proud face, like perfectly carved marble, showing him nothing of her thoughts.</p><p>She stood before him like a thick fog.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, Zachary.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Hmm</em>, he nodded at the familiar sound of her voice, so regal, so mysterious, so distant.</p><p>“How is our girl?” He asked the specter, a tremble in his words. “Is she beautiful, is she everything I imagined?”</p><p>A fond smile formed on his waxen face. “She would have been…it doesn’t matter. I will join you shortly. It won’t be long now and we three will be together again.”</p><p>He chuckled bitterly, “That is if you can tolerate me this time.”</p><p>The ghost stared at him, tilting her head slightly to the side, her face blank.</p><p>Zachary felt an overwhelming longing to touch her, to feel the pulse beneath her wrist, to hear her breaths, but he knew she had neither.</p><p>His smile fell as tears began to cloud his vision.</p><p>“I’ve missed you Polly…I don’t know if you’d believe it, but I have…truly I have.”</p><p>The ghost turned her head, looking about the room, affording him a view of her beautiful profile.</p><p> </p><p>“Where is my daughter?”</p><p> </p><p>Her wispy voice echoed in his ears and Zachary’s heart stopped, his body cold.</p><p>She turned back to him, her azure eyes searching.</p><p> </p><p>“I should like to see you both.” A curious shadow settled on her face as her pale brows fell. “Don’t you want to tell her goodbye?”</p><p> </p><p>He swallowed; his tongue caught in his throat which had gone dry.</p><p>“Our daughter is with you, Hippolyta…isn’t she?” The specter made no reply. “She <em>died</em> with you. Don’t you remember?”</p><p>Trepidation filled his thoughts, his breathing growing ragged.</p><p>The ghost’s pale lips curved into a sad, pitying, smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>She began to fade away.</p><p>Zachary struggled to get up, reaching out a hand to stop her.</p><p>“HIPPOLYTA WAIT!”</p><p>But she was gone.</p><p>Vanished like breath on glass.</p><p>He took a shuddering breath.</p><p>Pain stabbed his chest, hot tears trailing down his cheeks as he clutched his left arm.</p><p>“Do I remember” he murmured, “…Diana?”</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>City of London Certificate of Death</em>
</p><p>Name: Zachary Princeton, His Grace The 7<sup>th</sup> Duke of Hever</p><p>Date &amp; Time of Death: 2:52 am October 27<sup>th</sup>, the Year of our Lord 1838.</p><p>Place of Death: Hever House, St. James Square London England.</p><p>Cause of Death: Heart Failure.</p><p>Age of the Deceased: 52 years.</p><p>In Memoriam: He died peacefully in his sleep during the early morning hours. Widowed and predeceased by his only child, a daughter, in the summer of 1830, he never remarried. His final request was to be laid to rest beside his wife, Hippolyta Lennox, in the burial grounds of St. James Church and that the inscription upon his headstone should read.<em> “I hope they got the damned eagle right on this blasted headstone. It’s the least you can do for the man who lost everything.”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>London England September 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Oliver Queen,</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">List of Contested Possessions and Properties </span>
</p><p>in the case of</p><p><em> The Lady Diana Princeton, </em>v.<em> Elliot Hale, The 8<sup>th</sup> Duke of Hever.</em></p><ol>
<li>The Property of Hever House, St. James Square London.</li>
<li>The Property of Huntly Hunting Lodge in Norfolk, purchased by the Princeton family in 1749, renamed Diana’s Violets’ in 1829.</li>
<li>Principle Shareholder in the East India Trading Company.</li>
<li>A steel factory in the North of England.</li>
<li>14 cargo ships for transporting furs, luxuries, and tea in the Wayne Enterprises Shipping Company.</li>
<li>An art collection worth £56,000 pounds.</li>
<li>A personal fortune worth £5,000,000 pounds.</li>
<li>All personal effects of the 7<sup>th</sup> Duke and Duchess.</li>
</ol><p> </p><p>A Clerk finished summarizing the items in the will for what felt like the 700<sup>th</sup> time.</p><p>Oliver stifled a groan as Elliot Hale and his lawyer once again began to argue that everything should go to the inheritor of the title on the grounds of tradition.</p><p>Oliver glanced over his shoulder to the viewing gallery where his wife sat.</p><p>Dinah gave him a reassuring wave, trying to conceal how nervous she was. Next to her sat Lois, who chewed at her bottom lip as she followed the proceedings intently.</p><p>Elliot’s lawyer mentioned allocating a couple thousand pounds to Diana as a dowry, causing Oliver to turn his attention back to the man.</p><p>This proposal was apparently not something the two had discussed beforehand as once it was mentioned Elliot looked like he wanted to break his lawyer in half.</p><p>“Your Honor, it is an insult to The Duke’s dignity to leave him with nothing to uphold his position, unlike his predecessors who had the benefit of the ancestral estates to provide their income.”</p><p>Judge Alistair Payne appeared uninterested in the lawyer’s words as he leaned his elbows on the desk and slowly blinked his small eyes.</p><p>“Yes, yes, Mister DeVoe, you have mentioned your client’s sufferings before the court many times. But I have yet to hear an explanation for why His Grace did not inherit the ancestral properties upon assuming his title. Especially as I see no indication of them being mentioned in the will. Isn’t that so Master Harlow?”</p><p>“It is Your Honor,” the Clerk replied, holding up the will. “Should I summarize it again?”</p><p>“No!” The Judge held up a hand to halt the young man. “I beg you no Master Harlow. I believe we have all memorized it by now.”</p><p>The Clerk obediently lowered his papers and the court let out a collective breath.</p><p>“Mister Dent,” The Judge bellowed, turning his gaze to Harvey and Oliver, who hurriedly sat up straighter in his chair. “Why are these properties not currently in The Duke’s possession?”</p><p>Harvey stood confidently before the bench, speaking as a trained orator, his voice carried easily throughout the room.</p><p>“The items listed in the will were <em>private</em> purchases of the Princeton family and not gifts from the crown or associated with the title Duke of Hever. All the ancestral Estates and lands in Norfolk, Devon, and Scotland were sold before the 7<sup>th</sup> Duke’s death and the proceeds given to the Church of England as a charitable donation.”</p><p>The Judge’s brow creased.</p><p>“Wasn’t he a Deist?”</p><p>“Y-Yes, Your Honor.”</p><p>“And he donated it to the church?”</p><p>“That would be correct, Your Honor.”</p><p>Judge Payne expertly concealed a smirk as he turned toward the opposing party.</p><p>“He really didn’t care for you did he, Your Grace?”</p><p>“…so, it would seem, Your Honor.”</p><p>The Judge gave a small chuckle. Elliot’s face burned and he suddenly jumped up.</p><p>“He stole everything that was supposed to be mine, Your Honor! How is it legal to rob a man of what is his? I demand satisfaction, what remains should belong to me!”</p><p>The gavel pounded, beating the air, and bringing everything to a standstill as the Judge stared down the irate noble from above.</p><p>“Sit. Down. Your Grace or I will have you thrown out of my courtroom for your insolent behavior.”</p><p>Elliot sunk back into his chair, balling his hands into fists on the table before him.</p><p>Judge Payne returned to the case.</p><p>“Now, Mister Dent, as I understand it the Lady in question is already set to inherit a personal fortune of several million pounds as well as an estate once she reaches 21, outside of the result of today’s proceedings, is that correct?”</p><p>“Yes, Your Honor. She is the uncontested heir of 2 million pounds and Sancomb Palace in Hertfordshire. But, as you stated Your Honor, Lady Diana will not come into possession until her 21<sup>st</sup> birthday.”</p><p>“Remind me Sir, who willed this fortune to her?”</p><p>“Her maternal grandmother, Diana Lennox, The Dowager Viscountess of Cheswick, <em>nee</em> Diana Chatsworth The Dowager Countess of Rothsburg, <em>nee</em> The Honorable Miss Diana Lily.”</p><p>The Judge nodded.</p><p>“Then it would appear Mister Dent that this young lady is already guaranteed more than enough to live a <em>very</em> comfortable life for the rest of her days. Why then should I grant a mere child, a girl, even more income when His Grace the Duke hasn’t so much as a penny to uphold the dignity of the title and position that are rightfully his inherited under the law?”</p><p>Harvey didn’t hesitate.</p><p>“Because Your Honor, the wishes of this father to provide for his child should have as much right under the law as those of any living man. Even though he’s dead, his daughter is alive, and should not be forgotten.”</p><p>A faint smile flickered across the Judge’s face.</p><p>“Well said, Mister Dent.”</p><p>An hour later Lois, Dinah, and Oliver let out a collective sigh of relief as the Judge announced his verdict in favor of Lady Diana Princeton, with only a few compensations to be made to the 8<sup>th</sup> Duke of Hever.</p><p>Oliver lept to his feet, racing back to the observation gallery to hug his wife before remembering Harvey still standing before the bench.</p><p>“Come on Harv, let’s go celebrate with the ladies.”</p><p>Harvey gladly joined his friend, making their way to where Dinah and Lois stood, deep in conversation.</p><p>The lawyer’s face lit up at the sight of Lois and he quickly outpaced Oliver, coming to a halt before the pretty young Countess, granting her a neat bow.</p><p>She nodded curtly, lips thinning in displeasure, as she accepted the gesture.</p><p>“Hello Lois, you’re looking as lovely as ever.”</p><p>“I’m still married Harvey.”</p><p>The lawyer shrugged, not seeming the least bit offended by her refusal to play his game.</p><p>“Can’t blame a man for asking.”</p><p>“How’s Gilda?” Lois said with a smirk.</p><p>Harvey didn’t appear the least bit disturbed by the mention of his long-suffering wife and just waved a hand at the question.</p><p>“Oh, she’s fine. I’m afraid our Delilah keeps her rather busy.” Harvey’s chest swelled with pride as he spoke of his child. “She’s very precocious for an eight-year-old.”</p><p>His demeanor reverted to polite but unconcerned as he returned to the topic of his wife. “Gilda will be grateful to know you asked after her Lois, thank you.”</p><p>“Of course, Harvey,” Lois practically growled. “Gilda is a dear friend.”</p><p>That was a lie, she was barely an acquaintance, but Lois wasn’t going to give up trying to force some remorse on the man for his flagrant flirting with anything that moved.</p><p>She found herself appreciating Clark’s bumbling mild-mannered personality more with every second she had to spend in Harvey Dent’s presence.</p><p>“Thank you again, Harv,” Oliver jumped in, trying to distract the man before Lois scratched his eyes out.</p><p>“I honestly didn’t think we could win, but now the whole business can finally be put to rest. I know Elliot tried to hire you for his side of the case and I can’t thank you enough for turning him down.”</p><p>Harvey bowed his head in an act of sincere humility.</p><p>“A man’s wills should be followed, that is the law, and It would be wrong to allow a young girl to be robbed of what is rightfully hers. I would do it all over again even if you hadn’t asked. It would have been dishonest to argue against what I know to be right.”</p><p>Oliver patted his friends’ shoulder, unsurprised by the man’s devotion to his personal code. Even as children Harvey had viewed everything with brutal honesty.</p><p>“We are grateful that our interests aligned.” Dinah smiled, covertly giving Lois’s elbow a squeeze in a silent request to focus on the big picture.</p><p>Lois shook her head baffled, how could Harvey be both the most faithful of friends and yet a notoriously unfaithful husband? How could the man possibly reconcile the two sides of himself?</p><p>“Yes, thank you, Mister Dent,” Lois said with a thin smile.</p><p>“No thanks necessary. If you will excuse me, I need to speak with Judge Payne and Mister DeVoe to finalize the transfer.”</p><p>As Harvey left and Dinah relaxed.</p><p>“<em>Swine</em>.” Lois hissed.</p><p>“He’s really not that bad.” Oliver tried to defend his friend only to receive a raised eyebrow from Lois.</p><p>“Well, sometimes you can be a bit harsh with people Lois.” He countered.</p><p>She gave him a condescending smile. “And you can be far too forgiving of them, cousin.”</p><p>Thankfully, Clark chose that moment to arrive, unknowingly saving Dinah from being forced to referee.</p><p>He walked with a quickened step, granting a bashful smile at the little group as he came to join them.</p><p>“Sorry, I’m late. I was covering a workers’ dispute in the East End.”</p><p>“What kind of dispute? Where do they work, factory, shipbuilding, railway?” Lois demanded, a hungry gleam in her eye. “How many workers involved, what are their complaints, did you make sure to get a quote from the boss?”</p><p>Clark opened his mouth but was cut off before he could answer.</p><p>“Break time reporters,” Oliver quipped. “One situation at a time please.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Clark apologized, flicking his gaze downward.</p><p>Lois fought the urge to roll her eyes at his Farm Boy manners. She knew he hated to be an inconvenience or cause conflict, but she wished he would stand up for himself occasionally.</p><p>After all, his job was important and something Clark had worked ridiculously hard for.</p><p>It made her blood boil that Oliver was treating it so casually. Just because HE could enjoy being an aristocrat without working didn’t mean that Clark was any less of a nobleman.</p><p>Clark could see the fire burning in his wife’s violet eyes, spoiling for a fight. He knew Oliver hadn’t meant to be flippant about his job, but Lois wasn’t one for letting things go.</p><p>He quickly stepped in before she made Dinah an unfortunately young widow.</p><p>“Has the trial started?” he asked, looking around the rapidly emptying courtroom.</p><p>“Started, happened, wrapped up, and tied with a bow,” Oliver announced with a cheek-splitting grin.</p><p>Clark raised his eyebrows in surprise. “So, I take it you won?”</p><p>“More or less.” Dinah beamed, clearly feeling as victorious as her husband.</p><p>“Well, good, I’m glad.”</p><p>Oliver snorted and Lois jerked her head to look at her husband, granting him an incredulous smirk of her own.</p><p>“Oh, we <em>know</em> that you thought this was a waste of time,” Dinah said in an unnervingly calm tone that made Oliver flinch.</p><p>“It wasn’t that I thought it was a waste, so much as a lost cause.”</p><p>Oliver gave a low whistle "Why Lois would you look at that, they've painted the ceiling white! Come cousin we should inspect it."</p><p>"I think you're right, lets go. There's nothing I like more than watching paint dry, and white, what a...exciting choice of color."</p><p>Lois and Oliver jointly backed away from the pair to study the ceiling from the safety of another part of the room.</p><p>“Sometimes I don’t understand you, Clark. You have never once argued against Diana receiving Grandmama’s fortune. Even when we all thought she was <em>dead</em>; you didn’t argue for any of the rest of us to inherit it.”</p><p>“That’s because I respected her wishes. For goodness sake Dinah she was our Grandmother, I would never betray her memory like that.”</p><p>“And Uncle Zach was Diana’s <em>father</em>, but you don’t find his memory as deserving of your respect?”</p><p>“It’s not that—”</p><p>“What is it then?”</p><p>Clark hung his head under Dinah’s sharp gaze.</p><p>“Please do share <em>Kal</em>,” Dinah said, making her cousin’s ears burn with the sound of her childhood nickname for him. “I’m all ears and more than eager to hear you explain.”</p><p>Clark took a deep breath. He hated arguing with Dinah but in this rare instance, they just couldn’t seem to see eye to eye.</p><p>“I have nothing but sympathy for Zachary Princeton, you know that Dinah. I am reminded of what losing his daughter meant for him every time I look at her. To think of what he suffered believing she was dead when in fact she had been stolen from us by some amoral villain.”</p><p>A measure of Dinah’s anger subsided as she too thought of what they had all lost for 13 years.</p><p>“He was Diana’s father,” Clark conceded. “But he was also the reason for Aunt Hippolyta’s unhappiness.”</p><p>“I don’t think it was as black and white as that Clark,” Dinah told him, her tone once again full of the steady sisterly affection he was familiar with.</p><p>“Maybe not, but you can’t deny that he was stubborn, impulsive, and highly competitive, which usually turned into pettiness. This whole ordeal is proof of that.”</p><p>He gestured to their surroundings.</p><p>Sadness glinted in Dinah’s gray eyes despite the small smile on her face.</p><p>“If that is all you remember then I am afraid you didn’t know him very well.”</p><p>Clark felt remorse over his words. Though he still stood by his view of the man, he knew that Dinah had been fond of him and he didn’t want to hurt her by disregarding that.</p><p>“What I mean to say is that Zachary never honestly believed that his daughter was alive. Everything he did <em>in her name</em> was just the petty act of a dying man to spite the heirs he disliked…It wasn’t for her Dinah, and I just don’t see the point in dragging up the whole messy business when she has already been taken care of by <em>our</em> family and her future secured by Grandmama.”</p><p>Dinah shook her head and turned to the side, her bonnet blocking his view of her face.</p><p>When she turned back the anger was gone as she resigned herself to the fact that they remembered their late uncle to differently to find common ground.</p><p>“You’re right Clark, you don’t see the point. But at least the point is moot. We won today, and it's over now.”</p><p>Clark smiled and nodded, on that at least, they could agree.</p><p>“<em>Soooooo</em>, has the war started?” Oliver joked as he and Lois edged back towards them.</p><p>“No war Ollie,” Clark announced raising his hands, “I would never survive against the <em>Black Canary</em>.”</p><p>He mischievously chuckled as Dinah’s mouth tightened and her pale face blushed with the humiliating nickname from childhood.</p><p>“Black Canary?” Lois asked, “how did that come about?”</p><p>The boys burst into laughter while Lois eyed them suspiciously and Dinah turned an even deeper shade of red.</p><p>“Well,” Oliver began, “When Canary here was around…how old was she Clark?”</p><p>“Couldn’t have been more than 10 because that was the last summer before I left for school.”</p><p>“Right,” Oliver nodded, continuing. “Anyway, we were all together on holiday in the country, and Clark and I decided to sneak down to the river to fish.”</p><p>“And Dinah wanted to tag-along.” Clark jumped in, giving his cousin a wicked grin.</p><p>“So,” Oliver took over, “we tried to lose her by cutting through a pasture—"</p><p>“<em>Despicable runts</em>,” Dinah growled, glaring daggers at her husband.</p><p>“We didn’t think she could climb the fence, but we looked back and low and behold here comes Dinah crawling over it.” Clark gave her an overenergetic pat on the back, not helping to diminish her seething rage.</p><p>“She almost made it too,” Oliver cackled. “But, at the last second her shoe caught, and she went flying, face first, into a giant pile of COW SH—”</p><p>“OLIVER!” Dinah cried, making poor Ollie jump out of his skin from the shrill vibrations.</p><p>“Needless to say,” Clark wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes, “her head was covered in smelly black…mud…not an inch of blonde hair to be seen!”</p><p>“And so Clark decided that she now looked like a black canary!”</p><p>“The ice is thin Ollie,” Dinah warned but he flashed her an adoring smile.</p><p>“Oh Prettybird, don’t be mad, that’s my favorite story about us.”</p><p>“Why?” Lois laughed.</p><p>Oliver looked at his wife with a face that melted her heart.</p><p>“Because that was the day Dinah said that she was going to marry me.”</p><p>Oliver kissed his wife’s temple as a begrudging smile spread on her face.</p><p>“I told him that it would be his punishment for laughing.”</p><p>“And I hope I never get Paroled.”</p><p>Lois felt Clark take her small hand and tuck it into the crook of his elbow, squeezing it gently.</p><p>“I have a question,” Clark said, bringing the conversation back to more current matters. “What exactly was the verdict?”</p><p>“Elliot got the steel factory, all the East India shares, and Hever House. Diana got the rest.” Dinah told him.</p><p>“It’s unfortunate that she couldn’t keep the house, after all, she was born there.” Lois mused and Clark gave her hand another squeeze.</p><p>“At least she was granted everything inside it.” Oliver pointed out with a devious gleam. “By the time I’m done, Elliot won’t have so much as a stool to sit on. Let’s see how he enjoys the grandeur of living in an empty house.”</p><p>“I would feel bad for him, but I agree with Lois,” Dinah concurred. “He deserves it for not being gracious and allowing her to keep her former home.”</p><p>Clark nodded in agreement, taking everyone, pleasantly, by surprise.</p><p>“I admit, it was worth it just to give her back some small piece of her past. Hopefully, this will grant some solace.”</p><p>The mood became serious as they contemplated what this would mean for the future. They hadn’t told her of the inheritance or legal proceedings, not wanting to get her hopes up.</p><p>Thankfully, Oliver was there to break the tension.</p><p>“Let’s be off gang,” He exclaimed, claiming his wife’s arm. “I can’t wait to tell little Diana that she is officially one of the richest women in England!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Chapter 33: Home Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank You for Reading and Please Review! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Chapter 33: Home Again</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Wayne Castle, Kent England September 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Bruce Wayne,</em>
</p><p>The newly returned couple exited the carriage, met by a line of servants, dressed, pressed, and ready to impress.</p><p>“Welcome home Your Grace,” Alfred greeted them with a dignified bow, his troop of foot soldiers following suit.</p><p>“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce replied as he helped his wife down from the carriage.</p><p>The Butler’s smile grew as the Duke offered the young Duchess his arm and guided her towards his former guardian.</p><p>“My Lady,” Alfred said, bowing respectfully to the new lady of the house. “It is my great pleasure to welcome you to Wayne Castle.”</p><p>Selina beamed. “Thank you, Pennyworth. I am at your mercy.”</p><p>Alfred’s eyes danced at her witty remark, but he was careful to keep his amusement hidden from the other servants, but Selina had caught it and smirked at the older man’s concealed sense of humor.</p><p>She let her gaze wander over the imposing façade of the medieval castle. She was still unable to believe this was now her home and everything that had happened wasn’t a dream.</p><p>Her thoughts were interrupted by her husband’s matter-of-fact voice.</p><p>“I think we can manage without the spectators.”</p><p>“Certainly, Master Bruce.” Alfred clapped his hands. “You are dismissed.”</p><p>The servants bowed and curtsied before breaking off to return to work or help unload the luggage.</p><p>Meanwhile, Bruce offered Selina his arm again, leading her into the grand house, while Alfred discreetly slipped past them and disappeared within the vast dwelling on some covert mission of unknown importance.</p><p>Upon entering the grand foyer, a valet and lady’s maid magically appeared to take their coats, hats, and other traveling paraphernalia, and Selina took in the room with fresh eyes.</p><p>She had been here only once before the wedding, to oversee organizing the mountain of wedding gifts they had received. There had even been a silver cup from Queen Victoria!</p><p>She had seen the foyer for a second time during the wedding reception but had been far too busy to really take it all in.</p><p>Now she could indulge in taking her time, viewing it in full, and dissecting every fine detail.</p><p>The room had the dimensions and feel of a medieval great hall. With a ceiling that rose higher and higher until one could become lightheaded simply from looking up at it.</p><p>There were no less than six enormous steel double-tiered hanging candelabras that looked as if they too were from the Dark Ages. But she was surprised to see that instead of candles each was fitted with glass bulbs, a form of electric light that Bruce had made based on the design of someone named Warren de la Rue. So far though this was the only place his experiment was in use.</p><p>At the celling’s peak, it climbed into arches supported by highly decorated wooden beams. Surrounding the rest of the cavernous vault were glossy oak beams creating a crisscrossed pattern of squares flush to the whitewashed ceiling.</p><p>Within each square was painted the personal sigil of a former Duchess of Gotham and or subsequent ladies of the house.</p><p>Selina smiled as she spied the freshly painted square that bore her emblem. Bruce had designed it for her, a maiden sitting on a crescent moon.</p><p>Hers was positioned between that of Bruce’s mother, the Kane family coat of arms, and his grandmother, a German brown bear on a field of gold.</p><p>Moving down the walls were of smooth brown and beige stone. Further below the stone was covered by exquisite Jacobean oak paneling traveling from the second story entrance to the black and white checkered marble floor where she stood.</p><p>At the center of the hall was the longest staircase Selina had ever seen.</p><p>Carved of reddish-brown mahogany that was polished to the point where it glowed, its banister curved slightly out, allowing for a broader base that led to a slightly narrower top before coming to rest at a landing that formed a catwalk that was at least 10 feet in length.</p><p>From the landing’s edges sprang three more, much shorter, stairways, one to the left, one to the right, and a third dead center.</p><p>Each fed into a stone archway that led down differing corridors in the vast labyrinth of a house.</p><p>The left and right-side halls ran along the edges of the great hall and had a network of stone archways overlooking the entrance below from behind the safety of oak rails that corresponded to the paneling adorning the walls directly underneath.</p><p>Between the arches, covering most of the blank wall space were large, faded, medieval tapestries depicting different scenes from the Bible, folklore, and domestic/country tableaus.</p><p>The stairs were laid with a rich maroon carpet that stretched from the three stairways, over the landing, down the main stair, onto the floor, and all the way to the front door.</p><p>Several imposing wooden doorways lined the main floor where she stood, leading off into unknown halls and receiving areas. She had counted five but was certain there were more hidden entrances she didn’t know about where servants could discreetly disappear into secret passages and rooms.</p><p>Selina spun slowly, taking in the ground floor’s décor.</p><p>It had all the traditional items one might expect, family portraits, antique weapons and heirloom treasures, various tables and benches, vases of flowers, etc.</p><p>When she turned back to the main door, which was flanked by two floors to ceiling cathedral windows, she spied the Wayne family crest engraved above the frame. A knight in black armor with an owl resting on one arm and a sword drawn in the other.</p><p>Beneath were written the family words, <em>Prudentia et Virtus, quod Honoris. “</em>Prudence and Virtue is Honor.”</p><p>Bruce watched his wife studying her new home as he handed his coat off to a valet.</p><p>She was too engrossed to notice Alfred returning to the hall with a certain black cat held securely in his arms.</p><p>Bruce smiled as the faithful butler pressed a finger to his lips, warning his surrogate son not to ruin the surprise, before gently placing the feline on the floor.</p><p>Without hesitation the cat ran to her mistress and billowed into her expansive skirt, trying to find a leg to rub up against.</p><p>“Isis!” Selina cried as she picked up the animal and snuggled her face against its soft fur. “My beautiful darling, did you miss me?”</p><p>Isis meowed, demanding that her owner never abandon her in this strange place again.</p><p>Selina stroked Isis’s chin, her green eyes narrowing, as she spied a collar and pendant on the cat’s neck. She turned over the pendant to read the engraving, <em>Isis, Wayne Castle</em>.</p><p>“I’m afraid she ran off when I first brought her home, My Lady,” Alfred said, stepping in to show her the pet license more clearly. “I bought her this so if she runs again some kind soul might know where to return her.”</p><p>Selina felt a rush of sentiment at the kind gesture.</p><p>The Butler had somehow correctly summarized that Isis was more precious to her than just a simple pet. For so long the two had only had each other. She had been her companion…her friend.</p><p>Holding the animal closer Selina gave the man a genuine smile of gratitude that touched his heart more than she would realize.</p><p>“Thank you, Pennyworth, I will never forget your kindness.”</p><p>Alfred bowed his head respectfully.</p><p>“I am at your service My Lady. But might I ask you for a favor in return?”</p><p>Her face lit up, anxious to repay this act of sincere kindness.</p><p>“Of course, anything I can do for you I promise I will.”</p><p>The corners of his eyes crinkled.</p><p>“Would you please call me Alfred?”</p><p>The warm feeling glowed brighter.</p><p>“I would be honored Alfred, but only if you will call me Selina.”</p><p>Alfred’s smile dropped, instantly replaced by stunned horror.</p><p>“I-I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Grace. You are the Duchess of Gotham, the lady of the house, I would never presume to be so discourteous to you!”</p><p>“Please Alfred,” she grabbed his arm with her free hand. “I still can’t get used to that title; I miss hearing my name.”</p><p>The dignified man hesitated, but ultimately bowed his head in defeat.</p><p>“Very well Miss Selina, if that is your wish.”</p><p>She released his arm.</p><p>“Thank you, Alfred.”</p><p>“But never forget that you <em>are</em> The Duchess of Gotham and that the respect of that title is due to <em>you</em>.”</p><p>She tilted her head like an amused cat, crossing her heart. “I promise.”</p><p>He nodded briskly, becoming all business.</p><p>“Very good. Now, Sarah will show you to your room My La—Miss Selina.”</p><p>The maid led the Duchess up the stairs and Bruce came to stand beside his Butler.</p><p>“It was very kind of you to retrieve her cat while we were gone.”</p><p>Alfred waved the compliment away.</p><p>“Tosh, it was my pleasure. Now Master Bruce,” he said, turning to the younger man, “the post is on your desk in the study. I have already forwarded all urgent matters to Mister Fox, so it is merely the personal correspondences that require your attention.”</p><p>Bruce tugged slightly on his waistcoat and cuffs.</p><p>“Thank you, Alfred, I’ll deal with it now.”</p><p>“Very good Sir, I shall bring you some tea.”</p><p>Once in his office, Bruce glowered at the large stack of letters waiting for him. He wished people would just leave him alone. You shouldn’t write to people unless you know they want to hear from you.</p><p>Resigning himself to his fate Bruce sat down and began diligently sorting.</p><p>Invitations in one pile, requests from charities in another, letters of introduction as far away as he could manage, and congratulations on his marriage in the one closest at hand.</p><p>He quickly scanned each and wrote prompt, and usually rather short, replies and rejections.</p><p>Taking a sip of tea, he gave a contented sighed seeing that there were only a handful of letters left.</p><p>Pulling the last stack in front of him he glanced at the handwriting and his weary expression melted away, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.</p><p>He quickly counted five letters, each written in elegant swirling calligraphy that he’d recognize in an instant.</p><p><em>Only five letters, </em>he mused, <em>Diana must have had a busy summer.</em></p><p>Leaning back in his chair he made himself more comfortable as he began to read through the excerpts of the young girl’s adventures, chuckling at her various observations and escapades.</p><p>Before he realized how much time had passed, the last letter was done.</p><p>Neatly folding it back, he opened the desk drawer and added them to the stack.</p><p>Closing the drawer, he began thinking of what other tasks he needed to tackle when he noticed one more letter that had fallen, unopened, on the floor.</p><p>Picking it up Bruce leaned his elbows on the desk and began to read.</p><p>The further he read however the darker his expression became.</p><p>
  <em>Dear Duke,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I am writing you to call upon the favor of gratitude you promised me some four years ago. I promise that I would not do such a thing if it weren’t a matter of life and death. I am in need of safe passage to Britain for myself and my niece, a young girl of seven years. We hope to find sanctuary in your country. Only death awaits if we return to our native home and so it is my hope to build us a new life, safe on some foreign shore. There is no money that I can offer you, as what little I had managed to take when we fled is gone. If it were just my life at risk, I would have faced it, choosing to die on my native soil rather than to cower in the fields of another. But I no longer have the luxury of such sentiments. For you see it is not for myself that I request your help, but rather it is for the life of the child. At the time of my writing this we have made it to Fez, in Morocco, however, I do not know how long our accommodations will last. Please hurry my friend. I know that I can trust you in this as a man of your word.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Your Faithful Friend,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>J’onn J’onzz</em>
</p><p>Bruce stood to his feet; the letter gripped tightly in his fist as he threw open the door.</p><p>“Alfred!” he called, searching the house for the butler. “Alfred!”</p><p>The man appeared; his expression worried.</p><p>“Yes, Master Bruce?”</p><p>The Duke sighed in relief at seeing his father figure.</p><p>“Where is Selina?”</p><p>“I believe she upstairs resting…should I send a maid to get her?”</p><p>Bruce contemplated it a moment, deciding that it wouldn’t matter if the news came later rather than sooner.</p><p>“No, let her sleep.”</p><p>Alfred nodded, watching the young man closely, trying to decipher what was going on.</p><p>“Here,” Bruce said, handing the letter to him, “draft a response and send it.”</p><p>Alfred scanned the letter, his stomach dropping. “If that is what you wish Sir.”</p><p>Bruce nodded and began to walk down the hall before pausing and turning back.</p><p>“I’m going to Riverfoot to check in on the Kents, I should be back before supper.”</p><p>A small smile came to the butler’s face.</p><p>“Please tell the Princess that when she is free to resume her visits to come through the kitchen door, so we can continue our baking lessons.”</p><p>Bruce’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.</p><p>“Baking?”</p><p>Alfred’s smile only grew, “She wants to surprise her Aunt.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Riverfoot Hall, Kent England September 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Diana Princeton,</em>
  
</p><p>Diana banged her hands down on the piano keys in utter frustration.</p><p>She brushed a stray curl out of her face as she squinted at the sheet music, studying it, trying to figure out where she’d gone wrong.</p><p>The beginning usually flowed well, but she always lost it somewhere in the middle, her long fingers tripping over themselves and becoming clumsy sausages pounding the keys. The small dots on the page all running together in a fuzzy river of black.</p><p>Groaning in frustration she put her elbows on the keys and rested her head in her hands, rubbing the temples with her forefingers.</p><p>It wasn’t that she disliked practicing, but it had become increasingly difficult to remain focused since returning home last week.</p><p>They had been back for only four days and already she felt like her body and spirit were withering away.</p><p>After spending every day for the past few months gloriously free, running about in nature from sunup till sundown, it was absolute torture to be confined inside the house looking out the window and feeling all her hard work and training waste away.</p><p>It had poured the rain for three days and now the sun shone bright and inviting, drying up the land and beckoning her out. But she couldn’t because she had to practice. It was enough to make one cry.</p><p>She let out another groan, knowing she would have to start playing again before someone noticed and stuck their head in to ask why the music stopped.</p><p>If it were Oliver or Lois, she’d be safe, they’d easily cover for her, Dinah on the other hand might offer her help, but Clark and Aunt Martha would make her resume practicing, no arguments.</p><p>Clark had already set Big Barda on her to make sure she didn’t try to sneak outside again. Though the maid didn’t seem too pleased about being pulled away from her other work to play music teacher.</p><p>She snuck a quick peek at the giantess who stood ramrod straight against the far wall, arms crossed, glowering at the piano like she wanted to smash it to bits.</p><p>Diana pulled her hands down over her face and shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs.</p><p>
  <em>*Sigh</em>
</p><p>“Right than from the top.”</p><p>She gave it another go, but this time managed to mess up the part she had played perfectly before, making her frustration soar to new heights.</p><p>Not wanting to start over <strong>again</strong> she tried to muscle through, but it only made it worse as she realized she was playing in the wrong octave and was rapidly running out of keys.</p><p>Just as she was about to give up and go back to the beginning the parlor doors burst up and Kara ran in, throwing herself down on the rug in the middle of the room with an earthshaking wail.</p><p>“STOP! Please I beg you.”</p><p>Diana spun around on the stool to find her cousin clawing at the rug like a drowning sailor.</p><p>“Kara!” she yelled.</p><p>Kara lifted her head from the floor and raised a trembling hand towards the piano, pleading.</p><p>“Spare us from any more of this torture.”</p><p>Diana rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Ha-ha, very funny.”</p><p>Kara flopped over on her back, throwing her hands towards the ceiling, and slapping them together in prayer.</p><p>“Lord, I confess my sins so please strike my deaf, so I don’t have to suffer Diana’s horrible playing a moment longer. I can’t endure it!”</p><p>The older girl picked up a cushion from the nearby chair and threw it at Kara’s head.</p><p>“Get out!”</p><p>The little girl deftly caught the pillow and tilted her head back so she could glare at her cousin, arching her neck at an unnatural angle and seeing everything upside down.</p><p>“Don’t play it <strong>again</strong>! What did Mozart ever do to you to deserve <em>this?</em>”</p><p>“It’s Beethoven’s 6<sup>th</sup> <em>Caroline</em>.” Diana defensively retorted.</p><p>Kara crossed her eyes, letting her head drop back against the rug.</p><p>“Even worse! How could you possibly manage to make a <strong>deaf man’s</strong> music more painful to the ears?”</p><p>Diana had had enough.</p><p>Looking at her maid she gestured toward the hooligan on the carpet.</p><p>“Barda, would you mind?”</p><p>Big Barda appeared to share Kara’s sentiments as she made no move to obey her mistress. Diana frowned and narrowed her gaze; suspicious her two critics might be consorting.</p><p>Barda glared right back but did reluctantly push herself off the wall and make her way over to Kara, grabbing the child by the arm to pull her off the floor.</p><p>Kara went limp in protest, but the ogress simply threw her over her shoulder like a rag doll and strode out of the room with a pounding gait.</p><p>Kara still managed to get in one last critique as she was carted away.</p><p>“At least Beethoven won’t be able to hear you in his grave. IF ONLY WE WERE ALL GRANTED SUCH MERCY!”</p><p>Diana rolled her eyes to the ceiling as Kara’s voice dissipated down the hall.</p><p>“<em>Ugh</em>, so dramatic.”</p><p>Turning back to the instrument she flexed her fingers, prepared to conquer this advisory. Only two bars in however and she slipped up, causing such a pained noise to arise from the piano that she drew her fingers back in fear she’d hurt it.</p><p>“…My apologies <em>Maestro</em> Beethoven.” She whispered, deciding even the piano was against her now.</p><p>She stared at the black and white keys, contemplating starting over again only to resolutely slam her forearm down on them.</p><p>The offensive cry that followed filled her with a sense of retribution as she packed up her music sheets and dropped them in a semi-heap on top of the piano.</p><p>“That does it!” She announced to the empty room, as she closed the keylid, “I surrender.”</p><p>She swiveled on the stool, and folded her arms atop the piano, leaning forward and resting the side of her head against them as she looked out the window at the afternoon scenery.</p><p>Another raven curl managed to escape and fell over her face. Diana crossed her eyes to stare at the offending strand for a minute before ultimately deciding to leave it be and refocusing her sight at the view.</p><p>Suddenly she sat up, watching through the glass as a dark figure drew near, walking towards the house.</p><p>She jolted to her feet, eyes wide as the figure became clearer, her heart pounded in her chest as his face finally came into view.</p><p>“He’s back.” She said in a hushed voice, a vibrant smile lighting up her face. “Bruce’s back!”</p><p>She ran with all the speed her legs possessed, flying out of the house and racing to greet him.</p><p>On the path, Bruce looked up at the sound of the front door banging on its hinges to see a young woman running to him, loose raven hair flowing behind her.</p><p>She threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him over in an exuberant hug, her raven tresses smacking him in the face from the sudden halt.</p><p>“It’s good to see you too Princess.” He coughed, trying to regain some of the air that had been knocked from his lungs.</p><p>Reaching up he released her chock hold on his neck and held her at arm’s length, keeping a firm grip on her upper arms so she didn’t try to suffocate him again with another hug. He also took the opportunity to look at her.</p><p>She wore a light blue gown of silk taffeta with a wide rounded neckline, long straight sleeves, and a bobbin lace tippet draped around her neck, down the front of her dress, and pinned to the bodice with a simple brooch.</p><p>Her rich raven hair hung loose and free in thick curls down her back, just grazing her hips, and was pulled softly away from her face at the sides, secured with a thin blue ribbon on either side. </p><p>Her skin had tanned into a warm olive shade, instead of the pale complexion she’d had at Christmas.</p><p>He noted that it made her cheeks a lively pink color and her whole appearance had a ruddier energy that had been lacking since her time at sea.</p><p>Her face glowed as she continued to look at him, smiling with pure joy. He couldn’t help but smile in return, though it was a bit strange having her be at eye-level. There was barely 3 inches difference between them now.</p><p>“You’ve grown taller.” He observed.</p><p>Diana’s face became cross and he had to bite back a chuckle at her scowl. It never failed to amuse him how she couldn’t disguise her feelings on her face.</p><p>“Six feet Bruce, that’s how tall I am. Aunt Martha had to let down the hem on all my dresses AGAIN! I’ve grown a whole two inches.”</p><p>Bruce glanced down at Diana’s bare feet peeking out from beneath her skirt. Clearly, new shoes were also a necessity.</p><p>He looked back up noticing how much thinner she was than the last time he’d seen her.</p><p>He frowned with concern at the amount of loose material bunched around her arms in his hands.</p><p>“Didn’t they feed you in Lancashire?” he asked, releasing his hold on her, and quickly scanning for any signs of malnutrition.</p><p>“<em>Uh-huh</em>, but we were so busy I guess we worked most of it off.”</p><p>Her eyes lit up as she began to tell him all about her strange summer with the Troys.</p><p>She clearly enjoyed the experience, as evident by her high praise of the twins and excited retelling of all the things she had learned while with them.</p><p>“Well,” Bruce relented, “you don’t appear to have suffered too much under their regime.”</p><p>Diana lifted her head proudly, her hands coming to rest on her hips.</p><p>“Nope. When Missus Lane saw Kara and me yesterday she said we looked offensively healthy.”</p><p>“I’m guessing that would be the suntan’s fault.” Bruce laughed.</p><p>Diana inspected her hands, confused.</p><p>“Dinah and Lois were also surprised by that.” She mused.</p><p>“Are Oliver and Clark here as well?”</p><p>Diana nodded, still focused on her hands.</p><p>Bruce had wanted to check in with Lady Kent and the girls before leaving but he hadn’t expected the whole family to be here.</p><p>His natural introversion began to kick in. He hated being caught off guard by events he hadn’t prepared for.</p><p>“I don’t think I’m quite ready for a family reunion at the moment,” Bruce said giving Diana a conspirator’s look. “Would you care to take a walk in the garden before facing the relatives?”</p><p>She nodded, her face bright, and they made their way to Aunt Martha’s English garden.</p><p>They walked in companionable silence for a while, simply enjoying the late afternoon whether.</p><p>“Did you get my letters?” Bruce asked, breaking the tranquil quiet.</p><p>“<em>Mhm</em>,” Diana hummed as she walked a few paces ahead, clasping her hands behind her back.</p><p>“Good, I wasn’t sure if they would get there. The Troys live rather out of the way.”</p><p>She giggled, agreeing with the observation.</p><p>“I’m sorry I didn’t write more but we were very busy.”</p><p>Diana stopped to admire some late-blooming flowers that she had yet to identify.</p><p>“I found a new poet I like while at the Troys, Sappho of Lesbos.”</p><p>Bruce raised an eyebrow, wondering how well that would go down when Clark or Lady Kent found out and wishing he could be fly on the wall when they did.</p><p>“Can I take it then you enjoyed your summer holiday?” He asked, relieved to know she had connected well with the other half of her family.</p><p>She turned back to him, happiness radiating from her like sunshine.</p><p>“Aunt Martha agreed to let us go back every summer from now on, and the Twins have consented for Donna and Cassie to come for Christmas every year!”</p><p>“I’m glad. You’ve gathered quite the little tribe since coming here.”</p><p>He smiled.</p><p>“First Kara and Lucy, then Barbara, and now Donna and Cassie. Maybe I should start calling you Diana, <em>Princess of the Amazons</em>.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes at his teasing.</p><p>“Lady Diana will do just fine thank you.”</p><p>“As you wish…Princess.”</p><p>Diana looked away as they resumed walking, hoping he didn’t see her blush.</p><p>He always used that nickname when others weren’t listening. It was a gentle reminder of who she had once been, an assurance that she was still the princess her mother had raised her to be even if she had left that world behind.</p><p>She loved him for that…for never letting her forget.</p><p>“Did you enjoy Italy?” she asked, wanting to distract herself from the warm feeling before she unintentionally made it known.</p><p>“I did,” he replied.</p><p>Diana watched as his eyes took on a blissful faraway look, her heart sinking a little, wishing she hadn’t asked.</p><p>“I hope to take Selina back there someday soon. Maybe I’ll buy a villa to holiday in.”</p><p>She stiffened at the mention of his wife, her head snapping back to look ahead, fighting the tide of jealousy the clinched her heart and made it hard to breathe.</p><p>She had been doing so well, but with one word all her hard work of distancing herself came crashing down.</p><p>This reaction did not go unnoticed by her companion.</p><p>Bruce’s brows knitted together in worry as he watched her demeanor change, swiftly changing his mind about asking her to befriend Selina while he was away.</p><p>This awoke a new concern.</p><p>He began to contemplate if maybe Diana had become too attached to him, despite the friends she had made.</p><p>Bruce had noticed for some time that she presented two sides of herself depending on the company. With the Kents she was all smiles, living in the present, and striving to be the perfect English lady.</p><p>It wasn’t that these displays were disingenuous, but he knew it was only a partial reflection of the girl underneath.</p><p>With him, however, she let the other half emerge, the vulnerable half. The exiled princess, disconnected from her home and culture, missing her family, and tossed about in a world she was still struggling to understand.</p><p>Though a part of him was happy that she felt she could trust and rely on him, the last thing he wanted was for their friendship to become a crutch, crippling her from letting others in.</p><p>He had more experience with that than anyone should…he didn’t want her to become untrusting and closed off…to lose her bright trusting personality that he both admired and envied.</p><p>He would have to talk to Clark again. Try and convince him to make an effort regarding Diana’s past.</p><p>Bruce sighed, he doubted it would make a difference.</p><p>His best friend had created an image of what Diana’s life was and had been in his mind. An image he saw no reason to change.</p><p>Clark preferred to let unpleasant things be.</p><p>Diana broke the awkward silence that had settled between them.</p><p>“Lois has brought us some bitches from London.”</p><p>Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Diana turned around to see why he had stopped, her black brows crooking, bewildered.</p><p>“Bitches, they come in a glass jar. Lois said they are a fruit, but I’ve never had one before.”</p><p>Deep laughter shook him until Bruce was doubled over, his hands resting on his knees as he struggled to get hold of himself.</p><p>Diana frowned, not understanding why he was laughing at her.</p><p>With each second that his laughter continued her anger rose.</p><p>Putting her hands on her hips she glared at him, azure eyes blazing with blue fire.</p><p>“Why are you laughing at me?” she demanded, her unique accent becoming more prominent.</p><p>Bruce sputtered and wheezed as he tried to control himself.</p><p>“P-Peaches Diana.” <em>*Slightly waning laughter</em>, “They are called <strong>peaches</strong>.”</p><p>She tilted her head to the side.</p><p>“Isn’t that what I said?”</p><p>“No!” he adamantly corrected, still struggling to keep his laughter tamped down. “It is not.”</p><p>She groaned and threw her hands in the air, turning back to continue walking ahead of him down the path.</p><p>“Whatever.”</p><p>Bruce took a long stride or two to catch up. His laughing fit was over, but the amused smirk remained on his face.</p><p>“You need to watch those <em>Bs</em> and <em>Ps</em> Diana. It could make a shopping trip rather awkward.”</p><p>She grunted, still not forgiving him for his mockery.</p><p>“Were peaches your only culinary discovery since I’ve been gone?” He asked, thinking of her covert baking operation with Alfred.</p><p>Diana’s scowl returned full force and she abruptly stopped, raising her chin with proud indignation as she looked him accusingly in the eye, as if he were the representation of everything that was wrong with the English.</p><p>Bruce quickly wiped the amusement from his face, instead presenting a serious façade that was at complete odds with his current state.</p><p>“Did you know,” she demanded, “that bacon and sausages come from <strong>pigs</strong>?”</p><p>Her eyes doubled in size on the word pigs, her horror clearly reflected within. He bit the inside of his cheek.</p><p>“I was aware of that yes.”</p><p>Diana gave a disgusted shudder.</p><p>“Well, I didn’t.” She said as if this had been a deliberate conspiracy to trick her. “But now that I do, I will <em>never</em> eat them again, I refuse.”</p><p>“Do you have a particular fondness for pigs Lady Diana?” He asked, twitching an eyebrow.</p><p>She raised her chin even higher, looking down on him with regal authority.</p><p>“Personal connection to a religion has so far eluded me, but I know one thing for certain.”</p><p>She stuck a pointed finger in his face.</p><p>“If there is a God, He definitely doesn’t like people eating pigs!”</p><p>Bruce shook with suppressed laughter as she continued to rant about the uncivilized monsters of the west who should be ashamed of themselves for eating such creatures.</p><p>He had to momentarily look away, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep his composure otherwise.</p><p>Sometimes he forgot that she had been raised in a country whose culture and practices were shaped by the faith of Islam and not Christianity. But then there were moments like this that served to remind him.</p><p>Needing to distract her before she started a holy war on behalf of swine kind, and he had little doubt she would, he attempted to change topics once she paused for air.</p><p>“So, what brings the whole caravan of Kents and Queens to Riverfoot Hall?”</p><p>“Oh that,” she said, her voice growing softer. “They came to tell us the results of the trial, for my inheritance. I didn’t know I had one. Though I won’t actually control any of it until I’m 21, Oliver will.”</p><p>“Are you upset by that?” He asked.</p><p>She shook her head.</p><p>“No…I wouldn’t know what to do with it anyway and if I want to buy something Ollie said I only need ask, so long as it’s not unreasonable.”</p><p>“I suppose it will take some time to get used to, after not having your own income before.”</p><p>Diana stopped to look at another flower but didn’t really seem all that interested in the plant.</p><p>“Apparently there are a lot of things I own now…<em>in my parents’ house</em>…that need to be collected. Clark and Lois are going back tomorrow, but Ollie and Dinah are going to London at the end of the week, and I am supposed to go with them…to choose what to keep.”</p><p>Bruce watched her closely, studying her mood. Reverting to his normal calculating mental process where he was comfortable, he began deducing all the events her reaction could trigger.</p><p>“Clark wrote to tell me the outcome. You are an extraordinarily rich woman now.”</p><p>She nodded slowly, looking at the grass in front of her lagging feet.</p><p>“I don’t want to go Bruce.” She whispered.</p><p>She seemed to shrink before him, becoming so small and fragile, like a lost lamb. It pained him to see the uncertainty in her beautiful big eyes as he patiently waited for her to continue.</p><p>“I’m…nervous about visiting the house…I can’t explain it…I just am.”</p><p>She began to twist the hair hanging in front of her shoulder around her fingers, tightening the curls only to release them and start again.</p><p>He understood her reluctance more than she did.</p><p>Bruce had never returned to his London home after his parents’ death. Just the thought of it made him sick. It would’ve been like opening pandora’s box and letting all the ghosts and demons out, knowing you will never be able to shut them away again once freed.</p><p>“At the end of the week, so Saturday.” He mused, causing Diana to look up at him. “I should be in London on that day, getting ready to set sail the following morning. I will try to stop by Hever House and see how well the sorting is going.</p><p>“Wait!” She cried, grabbing his arm, and pulling him to a stop. “Where are you going?”</p><p>“A friend needs my help; he is in Morocco and has asked me to come. I gave him my word that I would repay the debt to him one day for saving my life, and now it is time to make good on that promise.”</p><p>Diana felt a surge of pride for him, admiring his honorable spirit and devotion to his friend. But a nagging thought scratched at the back of her mind as she found her thoughts turned toward Selina.</p><p>She wondered how Bruce’s wife felt about him leaving so soon after their honeymoon.</p><p>Despite her secret desire to hate her, Diana couldn’t help but remember how devastating it had felt when Bruce had left her behind, right after she arrived in England, and found a little part of her jealousy dim as she empathized with the woman she had never met.</p><p>With no small amount of reluctance, she decided to play the devil’s advocate, and argue on behalf of the new Duchess of Gotham.</p><p>“What does your wife think?”</p><p>She was relieved the words didn’t sound as bitter as she’d expected.</p><p>Bruce let out a subtle sigh.</p><p>“She doesn’t know yet. I doubt she will be happy about it, but there is nothing to be done.”</p><p>Diana’s eyebrows crossed as she contemplated his words.</p><p>She found she disagreed with him, surprising herself.</p><p>Thinking back, she couldn’t remember a time that she had questioned his judgment since relenting to becoming English back on that ship so many months ago.</p><p>But there was a first time for everything, and she wouldn’t allow anything, not even romantic feeling, to sway her on standing for what she believed was right.</p><p>For though his motives were noble, Diana couldn’t help but think that he was being foolish by ignoring his wife in this. And Diana was downright indignant on the woman’s behalf that he had told <em>her</em> of his leaving before Selina.</p><p>“You shouldn’t go without her, Bruce.” She told him, fighting back a well of tears. “If it were me, I wouldn’t like it.”</p><p>Bruce shook his head, his voice firm, and unbending.</p><p>“It is too dangerous to take her along, to many unknown variables. I gave him my word Diana, it’s a matter of integrity, duty, and this discussion is over.”</p><p>She frowned.</p><p>“It didn’t feel much like a <em>discussion</em> since you are choosing to ignore my advice and stubbornly refuse to admit that you might be wrong. But you’re right, it is none of <strong>my</strong> business.”</p><p>Bruce clenched his jaw as Diana proudly marched ahead, refusing to rise to the bait and get into an argument with a naïve teenager.</p><p>“When is the new tutor you wrote about coming?” he tersely asked.</p><p>“Next Friday,” She muttered before blowing at another curl that had fallen into her face with no success.</p><p>She took a deep breath, trying to calm her anger.</p><p>It really wasn’t any of her business and if he was leaving again, she didn’t want to waste his visit being angry.</p><p>“Since he’s a man and I won’t have a governess anymore, Dinah’s going to give me lessons at Werth Palace once a week to prepare for my debut.”</p><p>Bruce was caught off guard by this announcement, having forgotten that she would be 17 in March.</p><p>“Are you excited about entering society?” He asked.</p><p>His voice was softer than before, making her relax.</p><p>She smiled confidently, turning around to walk backward so she could see him while they talked.</p><p>“Yes, because it means that now I’m an adult!”</p><p>“It means you’re old enough to get married.” He corrected and her smile fell away, a thoughtful expression taking its place.</p><p>“Does that mean Clark will choose someone for me to marry soon?”</p><p>Bruce abruptly stopped, urgently grabbing her by the shoulders.</p><p>“England is not like the world you used to know Diana. <em>No one</em> can force you to marry against your will, it is your decision alone.”</p><p>His face was stern as his fingers dug into her shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eye.</p><p>“There will be pressure from others but don’t bow to it. You are a woman of means now. You only need to marry <strong>if</strong> you wish and to the <strong>whom you choose</strong>…you are free Diana, let no one force you.”</p><p>Touched by his concern she wrapped her arms around his chest in a tight hug, pressing the side of her face against the soft wool of his jacket.</p><p><em>Things have not gone how I wanted between us, but I promise to always try to be a good friend to you, Bruce. </em>She mentally promised, holding on tighter, knowing soon she would have to let go.</p><p>Bruce was again surprised by the hug, but unlike the first one, he returned the embrace, gingerly encircling her in his arms.</p><p>He felt an overwhelming desire to protect this innocent and naive girl from the cruelty of the society she was about to enter.</p><p>Diana could be so trusting and open, innocent to the way rumor and money manipulated society.</p><p>He thought of how she’d easily befriended the sailors on his ship, oblivious to their coarseness and low station, or her fierce protection and loyalty for Lucy, Barbara, and her younger cousins, that shone so purely through her letters about them.</p><p>He thought of her childlike love and devotion to Alfred, caring for him and craving his approval without a second thought for their differing stations in life.</p><p>Her hopeful desire to love and be loved had never been abused and its trust remained unbroken</p><p>He didn’t want her to lose that optimism, to become dejected and deceitful. He didn’t want her to change.</p><p>He hoped…had to <em>believe</em>…that Diana was stronger than humanity's toxic negativity and selfish disdain that would soon surround her.</p><p>Tightening his grip, he became keenly aware of what an easy target she was for fortune hunters and those looking for an advantage. She was not only young, titled, innocent, and breathtakingly beautiful, but she was also <em>very</em> rich. A tight knot twisted in his stomach.</p><p>Bruce knew he would do everything in his power to keep any unworthy philanderer from hurting her…but would that be enough?</p><p>Bruce had to momentarily laugh at himself. After all, he had criticized Clark for being overprotective, but he now understood what he hadn’t then about Clark’s fears.</p><p>It wasn’t Diana he didn’t trust; it was everyone else.</p><p><em>Please Princess, </em>he mentally begged, <em>for once in your life don’t be impulsive and too trusting of others.</em></p><p>He was pulled from his thoughts as Diana broke the hug, standing back with a brilliant smile that made her look more lovely than ever before.</p><p>“Thank you, Bruce, but I think my main concern is going to be not making a fool of myself as a debutante. I wouldn’t want to make the family regret bringing me to England.”</p><p>Bruce smiled at her genuine desire to please everyone and her fear of letting them down. No selfish thoughts of wanting glory or fun for herself, just love for her family and a wish to make them proud.</p><p>A bittersweet feeling settling over him as he realized just how much she had grown up since their first meeting.</p><p>She wasn’t the furious little girl who had thrown her towel and refused to take a bath anymore. She was becoming a Lady.</p><p>He was proud of her accomplishments, but a more than little sad to see that impudent child slipping away.</p><p>“You could never disappoint them, Diana, they believe in you…and so do I.”</p><p>Her azure eyes lit up with his reassurance and Bruce brushed a loose curl out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.</p><p>“I should’ve had Barda braid it today, it keeps falling in the way.” She commented, blushing.</p><p>As Diana roughly shoved the rest of her glossy mane behind her shoulder Bruce’s eyes latched on to a large bruise covering much of her neck and upper shoulder that she’d, unknowingly, just exposed.</p><p>He scowled.</p><p>His concern mounting and his mood darkening as he took in the ugly purple and yellow blemish on her otherwise flawless skin, wondering who could’ve done such a thing to her and what he would do to them if he ever found out.</p><p>“What happened there?” He demanded with a sharp tone that made most jump, but Diana waved it off unperturbed.</p><p>“It was an accident,” she said, clearly not concerned, “I was chasing Kara, trying to dump a bucket of water on her head, but missed and got Ellen instead.”</p><p>Bruce’s eyes narrowed but Diana began to giggle as she retold the story that was more humorous to one of them than the other.</p><p>“Ellen was so startled that she threw the fire poker she was cleaning into the air, and it landed on my neck.”</p><p>Diana gestured to the impressive bruise like it was a proud battle scar.</p><p>“It’s much better now. You should have seen how much worse it looked yesterday when it happened.” She boasted.</p><p>That did nothing to lessen his concern as Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning at the girl’s thoughtless antics.</p><p>He opened his eyes, giving her a stern look.</p><p>“You need to think things through Diana. If you continue being impulsive and reckless you are going to get yourself seriously injured or possibly someone else.”</p><p>Diana pulled in her lips, trying to hide another fit of giggles.</p><p>“Do you find this funny?” He growled incredulously.</p><p>She shrugged, a mischievous smile still on her face.</p><p>“Well, it would have been <em>hilarious</em> had it gone according to plan.”</p><p>Bruce rolled his eyes, but Diana was tired of him trying to spoil her fun and gave him a haughty look while crossing her arms.</p><p>“You know what I think? I think you, Bruce Wayne, need to lighten up and not be so paranoid all the time.”</p><p>“I may be paranoid, but I managed to never get hit with a fire poker, princess.” He retorted.</p><p>Diana burst out laughing, her voice clean and crisp in the afternoon air.</p><p>“Don’t worry so much Bruce, I am a fast healer, in fact, I can hardly feel it!”</p><p>Bruce flicked his gaze from her face to the bruise and back again before abruptly pressing two fingers firmly into her neck.</p><p>Diana yelped and flinched back before she could stop herself.</p><p>Indignant fury burned in her eyes as she stared back at his smug face.</p><p>“Why did you do that?” she demanded, her accent thickening with her rage.</p><p>Bruce smirked.</p><p>“I thought you said you couldn’t feel it. I was just testing that theory.”</p><p>Diana growled low in her throat.</p><p>“How would you like a bruise of your own?”</p><p>“No thank you, Lady Diana, you’d have to manage to hit me first and I don’t have all day to waste.”</p><p>Bruce knew he was antagonizing her, but he couldn’t help but be amused when she got angry from being teased. It was like hiding something from a toddler behind your back, the blue fire blazing in her eyes just egging him on.</p><p>Diana threw a fist towards his shoulder, the speed and strength of her strike impressed him, but he easily avoided it by turning his body and sidestepping.</p><p>The force began to throw her forward.</p><p>She flailed, trying to regain her balance, only to feel a strong hand catch her upper arm, stopping her before she hit the ground.</p><p>This only made her angrier as she turns to look up at his laughing face.</p><p>Suddenly Diana smiled back.</p><p>Bruce frowned, quickly analyzing what she was up to, only to feel a sharp pain shooting up his leg as she stomped down on his foot with all her weight.</p><p>He released her arm, clenching his teeth to keep from hissing and showing how much pain he was in. But Diana knew she’d won and innocently clasped her hands behind her back, tilting forward to watch the man hunched over his abused foot.</p><p>“I am so sorry Your Grace. You will have to excuse such delicate and weak ladies, like myself. I am afraid we are just too simpleminded to watch where our feet are going.”</p><p>She gave him a wicked look that screamed of feigned innocence as she leaned further down to look at him like he was a small child.</p><p>“That was a dirty trick princess.” Bruce bit out, standing up and straightening to his full height.</p><p>Diana raised her eyebrows silently telling him that he was just a sore loser.</p><p>“All is fair in love and war.” She laughed, skipping down the garden path, back the way they came.</p><p>“Maybe you should stop spending so much time with Lois,” Bruce grumbled as he began to follow, accurately identifying the culprit for teaching her this new phrase.</p><p>Diana stopped skipping and shot him a quizzical glance.</p><p>“How did you know it was her?”</p><p>He snorted a condescending laugh.</p><p>“I would expect nothing less from Machiavelli herself.”</p><p>Diana didn’t understand the joke but had a feeling it was his way of spoiling the phrase.</p><p>“Kol Hawa,” she grumbled. (nicer translation: Shut Up)</p><p>“I heard that.”</p><p>Bruce smirked as her cheeks flushed a deep red and she ducked her head. She had forgotten he could understand her.</p><p>“So why did come to visit.” She hurriedly asked.</p><p>“Actually, I came to ask you for a favor.”</p><p>Her embarrassment was forgotten, curiosity taking over.</p><p>“Really, what is it?”</p><p>He smiled at her eagerness.</p><p>“Will you look in on Alfred while I’m away? He’s missed you over the summer.”</p><p>“Of course,” she earnestly agreed, disappointed that he had felt the need to ask.</p><p>Had she been ignoring the dear older gentleman, her friend? She made a mental note to visit him more faithfully from now on.</p><p>A mischievous gleam sparked in her eyes and curved her lips as she broke out into a run back towards the house, yelling over her shoulder.</p><p>“But you better hurry back Bruce, before Alfred starts to prefer my company to yours.”</p><p>He chuckled as he watched Diana racing across the grass.</p><p>“Always Princess,” he softly said as he jogged to catch up, “and Alfred already prefers your company.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Wayne Castle, Kent England September 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Selina Wayne,</em>
</p><p>“No,” she yelled, “absolutely not!”</p><p>She glared at her husband as he stood statuesquely behind the desk, drawing a line between them as she faced him down from its other side. It was like a wall was being built and she could see it being laid brick by brick.</p><p>Bruce sighed, “I’m sorry Selina but I have to do this, I won’t be gone any longer than necessary.”</p><p>She crossed her arms, trying to keep the fury burning through her locked inside.</p><p>“I refuse to accept that <em>excuse</em>.”</p><p>Bruce frowned, his own temper simmering as well as his rapidly dwindling patience.</p><p>“This isn’t up for discussion.” He firmly replied, his tone stating very clearly that there was no room for argument.</p><p>Selina’s eyes widened before narrowing into lethal slits.</p><p>“So, I’m not even to be consulted? Did you just call me in here to order me to stay in my room and not break anything while your gone, like some child?” She hissed.</p><p>A strange calm settled over her with the realization that he would do exactly as he pleased regardless of her feelings. Well, two could play at that game.</p><p>“You want to help your friend, I get it, but what I can’t accept is that <em>you</em> have to be the one to do it. You own a fleet of ships, send someone else, a person you trust, a friend or worker, I don’t care, but someone else.”</p><p>“I gave my word Selina…it has to be me.”</p><p>She scoffed.</p><p>“Your word? What is that supposed to mean? People give their word all the time, making promises they can’t keep, the world easily forgives or forgets in time, and so will he. I’m not saying don’t help, I’m asking you to find another way.”</p><p>He stood rigid and unflinching despite the pleading in her voice, not showing how it was tearing him apart to leave like this, to hurt her.</p><p>“No. Selina.”</p><p>She bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming out, begging him to stay with her. But her pride wouldn’t allow that, she had asked once…she couldn’t again.</p><p>“Without his word a man is nothing, I won’t dishonor his trust in me. I am going, that’s final.”</p><p>Her deep voice resonated in his ears as she laughed. Her arms falling free as she gestured to the magnificence that surrounded them.</p><p>“Honor? Do you think it was your ancestor’s <em>honor</em> that paid for all of this?”</p><p>Her laughter turned cold, she tipped her head forward, watching him with hard emerald eyes, a haughty expression on her face that mocked his misguided belief in such fantasies.</p><p>“Open your eyes, Bruce, everyone has a code, you pick what’s right for you and try to stick by it, but don’t be a fool and think anyone will thank you for your efforts.”</p><p>Her hard mask slipped, and a flicker of real fear and confusion flashed in her eyes, making him wonder what was really going through her head.</p><p>Bruce knew he was missing something. He had a gut feeling that her anxiety was rooted deeper than just missing him or anger at not getting a vote.</p><p>He used every tactical observation skill he knew but still, it eluded him, barely escaping his grasp. Just what was she so afraid of?</p><p>“I think you might want to leave.” She accused, barely above a whisper.</p><p>The crease between his furrowed brows softened slightly.</p><p>Bruce knew this was unfair to her, hated himself for the look of betrayal in her eyes, but he didn’t have a choice. He had to see this through.</p><p>He rested his hands on the desk, closing his eyes, his broad shoulders slumping a little as he leaned his powerful frame forward.</p><p>“Cat,” he gently said, the nickname normally made her melt but now she bristled, “try to understand—”</p><p>“Not this time rich boy,” she cut him off. Her crooked mouth curved into a sneer that was both sultry and razor-sharp. “What’s the matter Bat, tired of me already?”</p><p>Bruce’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock and hurt.</p><p>Selina felt a small sense of satisfaction knowing she could wound him too. But the feeling of victory quickly vanished as his face morphed into a dark glare that made her breath catch.</p><p>She cursed herself, realizing he had exposed her fear by taking a step back. Something about the darkness and intensity of that look made her blood freeze.</p><p>Well, she had seen darkness before and had her own fair share to give back, she refused to lose this fight…to be left behind again.</p><p>“If you truly think so little of me then I’ll spare you from suffering my presence and go to London today.” He said his baritone voice deadly calm.</p><p>Panic gripped her heart as she watched him begin to pack various papers into a case. Her mind scrambled for some way to change his mind, to keep him where she wanted.</p><p>“If you loved me you’d stay.” She abruptly bit out. Her words revealing much more hurt and anger than she had intended.</p><p>Again, his head shot up and he stared back at her, but this time his expression was unreadable.</p><p>Selina’s heart sank into her stomach as the seconds dragged by without him uttering a word. She felt like she was going to vomit as her own words played repeatedly in her head.</p><p>“…you can’t even say it…” she murmured as hot tears blurred her vision.</p><p>Furious with him and herself she swiftly turned on her heels, intent on fleeing from this scene that felt like it had come from her worst nightmare.</p><p>She was stopped by a strong hand grabbing her wrist, refusing to let go, holding on so tight she could feel the bones rub together. She whipped her head back, ready to demand he let go, but hesitated.</p><p>He was frowning but not in anger, it was earnestness in his eyes and a little fear. A spark of hope reignited within her. Maybe she’d won after all.</p><p>
  <em>Got ya.</em>
</p><p>Again, the seconds of silence dragged, his grip never letting up, she was beginning to worry he might leave a bruise.</p><p>“…The words aren’t always easy for me to say, Selina…”</p><p>Her lips curled.</p><p>“Why not try one of the 23 languages you speak.”</p><p>He paused again, whatever he was trying to do seemed to be a great struggle for him, almost like a leap of faith.</p><p>“…I do love you.”</p><p>Joy swept through her with his words and she parted her lips to return his sentiment, only for it to die in her next breath.</p><p>“However, the two issues are not related…I love you <strong>and</strong> I am going to Morocco. That is a piece of <em>my</em> moral code.”</p><p>Bruce released his hold on her wrist, moving to take her hand in his, gently caressing the back of it with his thumb.</p><p>“But I won’t leave before I have to.” He whispered for her ears alone.</p><p>“It will take about five days to get everything settled here and prepare the crew. Then I will leave for London, spend a day or two consulting with Lucius, and set sail. Five days is all I can give…but they’re yours if you want them.”</p><p>Whatever reaction he was expecting it wasn’t the one he got.</p><p>In a moment of blind fury, Selina swung her free hand and slapped it across his face, raking her nails across the flesh. The skilled precision of the strike snapping his head to the right despite her diminutive size.</p><p>He released her hand and she stormed out of the room.</p><p>Fighting back his own hurt and anger he went back to his desk and began unpacking the case of papers.</p><p>He spied Alfred standing to the side, hands clasped behind his back, and a disapproving scowl on his face as he pointedly watched his former charge.</p><p>Bruce averted his eyes, mumbling under his breath. “She just needs time to cool off.”</p><p>The normally dignified Butler gave an unimpressed grunt as if to say <em>Not likely Master Bruce.</em></p><p>Growing annoyed with Alfred’s silent criticism Bruce faced him and demanded, “What?”</p><p>Alfred arched an eyebrow, reprimanding the young man’s temper.</p><p>Bruce growled and tried again in a calmer voice.</p><p>“Do you have something you’d like to say to me, Alfred?”</p><p>The older man shook his head, never breaking eye contact, before heaving a sigh that Bruce felt was borderline overdramatic.</p><p>“I would blame myself Sir, but I raised you better. This is entirely on you.”</p><p>Alfred resumed dusting the shelves he had just cleaned, even though they now had a maid to do that sort of work, just to make sure Master Bruce didn’t miss the fact that the Butler was not pleased with the way he had handled things and that the elder gentleman had fully thrown his support behind Selina. Hoping the Duchess would win in their first marital fight, even if he knew the chances of the Duke’s stubborn nature budging were slim to none.</p><p>Meanwhile out in the hall said young bride waited.</p><p>Selina was wounded that he hadn’t reacted to her anger like she’d thought he would. She watched the study door, confused. He should have come after her, begging her not to be upset and promising to stay as she wanted. But he didn’t.</p><p>Clenching her jaw, she stalked away from the door, her face creased in thought as she schemed how to get what she wanted.</p><p>She had five days before he left for London, five days to change his mind.</p><p>Her confidence returned as she made her way up the main staircase, turning up the right stair toward her room in the south wing.</p><p><em>Fine Bat, </em>she mentally decided, <em>I will just have to convince you.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Chapter 34: Alone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More Bruce &amp; Diana Next Chapter!<br/>Also, the Introduction of a Very Special Character (*wink wink) ;)<br/>Thank You So Much For Reading!<br/>and Please Review!!<br/>I Love Constructive Criticism and Would Really Like to Know if Any of You Feel I am Becoming too OC in Writing These Characters.<br/>My Goal is to Always Maintain the Integrity of the DC Characters just in a New Setting and I Want to Know If/Where I am Falling Short.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Chapter 34: Alone</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Wayne Castle, Kent England October 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Selina Wayne,</em>
</p><p>Selina held the pearl necklace up to the light of the candle’s wavering flame, the flickering light catching the diamonds and casting eerie shadows against the wall.</p><p>The room was pitch black except for the dim glow of this sole candle the struggled to stay lit.</p><p>Outside the window, a howling wind blew, but she didn’t hear it, didn’t let it break her concentration. Instead, she remained mesmerized by the shiny, glittering jewels that dangled from her claw, toying with the shadows and light.</p><p> She didn’t know what time it was, couldn’t say how many hours had passed, all she knew for certain was that she was alone.</p><p>Her thick brows knitted together.</p><p>Why would Bruce do this to her?</p><p>Had she been wrong about his love, did these trinkets and tricks really mean nothing…was his affection lost?</p><p>Why was she the one left behind?</p><p>To her shock Selina found herself feeling slightly nostalgic for her time at Uncle Francis’s house.</p><p>She had been miserable at Queene’s Abbey, but she’d never been alone.</p><p>Selina cast a glance at the bed. A tangle of sheets and pillows serving to remind her of the hours wasted trying to find some rest, but alas in vain.</p><p>She drew her free arm tighter around her knees, resting her chin on top. Her body had gone numb a while ago from sitting on the straight-backed wooden chair.</p><p>Good.</p><p>She wanted to be numb, wanted to forget that he had left, to freeze the ache in her chest, to feel nothing.</p><p>There would be no sleep for her tonight. The bed was too big, the pillows too soft, the night too quiet. It was driving her mad.</p><p>That big canopy bed with its purple curtains and gilded trim felt like a prison, a suffocating cavern waiting to swallow her up.</p><p>Her body screamed for sleep, to relax, to rest, but she couldn’t…not yet.</p><p>Not until the pounding in her brain ceased and she forgot that he had been free to leave while she had no choice but to stay.</p><p>Then she would sleep.</p><p>She turned away from the bed, refocusing on the necklace, smiling as it’s shimmering gems danced and distracted her eyes.</p><p>“Five days,” she murmured, causing the wavering flame to duck and shudder. “You made your choice Bat.”</p><p>Choice…yes, that was it…he had chosen to go…and had decided for her as well…Bruce held the control, not her…that was what she had learned over the past five days…</p><p> </p><p>Five days left, first course of action sympathy.</p><p>She’d cried, she’d wailed, she’d sobbed until there were no tears left and all that would come out were hoarse shaking sobs clawing for breath. Pleading with him to stay.</p><p>But this accomplished nothing.</p><p>After an initial show of concern and condolences, but no promises to change his mind, Bruce declared her show of tears dramatic and childish and retreated to the quiet of his study to let her sulk it out.</p><p> </p><p>Four days, nothing but fury.</p><p>Pure burning rage engulfed the house as she ranted and raved, pounding on his study door, ripping at the wood with her nails.</p><p>She’d cursed him, his family, their marriage, and his damn sense of duty, but alas to no avail.</p><p>He continued to ignore her from the quiet sanctuary of his office while she stormed through the house like a vengeful wraith.</p><p>Selina had poured out her anger upon him with all she possessed, and he had met it with stone-cold silence.</p><p> </p><p>Three, the enticement of pleasure.</p><p>Bruce had awoken on the third day to find his wife the picture of attentive and loving.</p><p>Every ounce of care and desire was lavished upon him without restraint and the pair were inseparable until the sun rose again.</p><p>But even as they lay tangled together in the sheets as the sun’s rays brought the dawn of a new day he didn’t verbally relent.</p><p>If anything, this display of her intense feelings made him believe she had accepted his decision and their relationship had returned to its previous honeymoon state.</p><p>In a flash of cold fear dawned with that day that perhaps nothing, not even the lure of her bed would be enough to keep him by her side.</p><p> </p><p>Two, blind denial.</p><p>She refused to see that she had lost, walking around the whole day as if nothing had happened or changed.</p><p>She was sweet, funny, charming, and generous, willfully ignoring the countdown that tolled in her ears as a far-off church called each passing hour, growing louder with each bell’s roll.</p><p>He emerged from his solitude and spent the day basking in her company and admiring the time they had together.</p><p> </p><p>One, silence.</p><p>He started packing, and the illusion cracked forever…it was only a matter of time before it smashed.</p><p>Intent on punishing him she had locked herself away in her room, refusing to come out, refusing to speak, she just sat there in the silence.</p><p>Bruce had thought he understood, had left her alone, thinking this was what she needed, or wanted.</p><p>He didn’t see that all she wanted was him to come to her and speak.</p><p>She slept next to an empty pillow that night, husband in his bed and wife in hers.</p><p>It was so quiet.</p><p>Bruce understood silence as a haven, Selina knew it as a cry from prison.</p><p>The next morning, he had kissed her cheek farewell but again she had refused to speak, retreating back to her room instead of watching him walk out the door.</p><p> </p><p>And then…</p><p> </p><p>Alone, he had left and now she was all alone…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Chapter 35: Ghosts and an Angel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, Happy Birthday to Me Folks!<br/>Here is the next chapter, finally!!!!<br/>I know it has been over a month but hopefully, I made up for it by this being my lengthiest update yet, and I hope never to write such a long chapter again if I can help.<br/>Oh, my word all the research...but I do have an impressive knowledge of Victorian and Georgian toys now.<br/>Well, anyway, I hope you like it, more Bruce &amp; Diana moments in the next chapter (which will be much shorter and should be updated on the normal weekly schedule again).<br/>Enjoy, Thank You for Reading, and Please Review! :)</p><p>Again I am sorry to anyone who actually speaks Arabic for all my spelling and translating errors, I tried my best.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Chapter 35: Ghosts and an Angel</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Hever House, St. James Square London England October 5<sup>th</sup>, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Diana Princeton,</em>
</p><p>Diana looked up at the large, terraced house from the open carriage, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders despite it being unseasonably warm.</p><p>Oliver offered her his hand, a reassuring smile on his face.</p><p>But she didn’t see it as she tentatively stepped down to the paved stones of the sidewalk. Never taking her eyes off the enormous mansion that dominated her view.</p><p>Ollie gently guided her out of the way, so the others could exit the carriage. She continued to crane her neck gazing at the structure that was swallowing her in its shadow.</p><p>The pavement shook as Big Barda landed, launched from beside the coachman. Garnering surprised looks from the company, she came to stand directly beside Diana, a frowning bronzed wall.</p><p>Barda scanned the street with suspicion, glaring at anyone who blinked in their direction. The others debated how to persuade her to stop.</p><p>Diana took no notice.</p><p>Perhaps she was occupied with the imposing façade, or maybe she had gotten used to Barda being Barda.</p><p>The Queens were frankly confused at having to deal with Diana’s maid at all.</p><p>It was assumed that, like all servants, she would stay at home. But it seemed wherever Diana went so did her exceptionally large shadow.</p><p>Oliver went to speak with the hired laborers, Dinah tried to dissuade Barda’s impolite behavior, and Benjamin moved to offer some conversation to his niece.</p><p>“That’s the Princeton Eagle, ‘Aleky’.” He told her, pointing at the proud marble bird carved, wings spread, above the grand door.</p><p>“What?” she asked, as if being pulled from the fog of a dream.</p><p>His floppy gray mustache fluttered, and kind eyes crinkled with his smile.</p><p>“Eagles, symbolizing inspiration, freedom, victory, longevity, pride, strength, and royalty. They have been the symbol of your family for the past five hundred or so years. A proud and noble legacy to be sure.”</p><p>He looked wistfully at the representation, “magnificent creatures.”</p><p>The short, plump, man looked up at her. His bushy eyebrows dropped, nearly concealing his eyes.</p><p>“Have you not heard of eagles before?”</p><p>“No, it’s not that.” Diana shook her head, her expression quizzical. “Why <em>Aaa-licky?</em>”</p><p>Benjamin’s brows shot to the sky, his squished eyes doubling in size, and double chin multiplying to three, as his mouth popped open.</p><p>Diana’s spirit fell, her emotions becoming stuffy. Was this a word she should’ve know?</p><p>“What is it supposed to mean, what is an <strong>Aleky</strong>?” She asked again, her words despondent.</p><p>A dull needle stung at her conscience as she watched Uncle Benjamin’s smile return. Convincing as it was, he could not disguise the disappointment behined his eyes.</p><p>
  <em>Disappointed in me.</em>
</p><p>“It’s short for Alexandra. Your name.”</p><p>“My name?”</p><p>“Your <strong>middle</strong> name.”</p><p>Diana felt the air amassing in weight, making her body heavy. Her feet sunk in her shoes, pressure settling on her brain, and pulling down on her lungs.</p><p>She hadn’t known she had a middle name.</p><p>“Hippolyta chose the name Diana. Did you know it means <em>of the</em> <em>divine?</em>”</p><p>She shook her head.</p><p>“But Zach wanted to give you a second name. It was becoming the fashion. He probably wasn’t pleased with naming you after Lady Lennox either.”</p><p>He gave a wheezing laugh.</p><p>“Your parents quarreled about it. She finally relented so long as he found a name they could agree on. He asked me for a suggestion, and I proposed Alexandra, meaning <em>defender of mankind</em>.”</p><p>He beamed proudly.</p><p>“But you were much too tiny for such a big name then. So, I called you Aleky.”</p><p>There was a bittersweet silence.</p><p>“<em>The Divine Defender of Mankind</em>.” He mumbled affectionately. “That’s really what your name is.”</p><p>“In Persian,” Diana began softly, “Diana means <em>messenger of beneficence and wellness</em>.”</p><p>Uncle Benjamin nodded thoughtfully.</p><p>“Does it?”</p><p>“Yes,” she became a little bolder, “and Alexandra means the same as in English, <em>to protect or help, men or warriors</em>…I think.”</p><p>He smiled.</p><p>“I had perchance met Zach’s cousin Alexandra just before. I found her an intelligent and admirable woman. The kind any father should wish his daughter to be.”</p><p>A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She agreed.</p><p>The conversation was interrupted. Oliver sauntered over, and Dinah rejoined them.</p><p>Husband and wife shared a glance as they drew near.</p><p>Oliver had arranged for Hever House to be cleaned, top to bottom, expunging over five years of tarnish, dust, and neglect. But every single item, down to the smallest button, was placed <strong>exactly</strong> how it had been found.</p><p>Nothing was to appear touched.</p><p>The meticulous process had been overseen by a Mister Vic Sage. An obsessive personality known for his great skill of precise replication and eidetic memory.</p><p>The result was a perfectly preserved archeological site of the last day Zachary Princeton had lived there. A moment frozen in time.</p><p>Besides packing and sorting, Dinah and Oliver had an ulterior motive; to help Diana spark some old memories to resurface.</p><p>“Alright team,” Ollie yelled, “here’s the plan!” He was practically bouncing with excitement. “<strong>Everything</strong> inside is coming with us.”</p><p>Oliver put a hand on Diana’s shoulder, drawing her attention.</p><p>“All we need you to do little Diana, is go in and pick out anything you’d like to take with you to Riverfoot. Lady M. has agreed to store the rest for the time being.”</p><p>She managed a nod; her tongue having become fused to the bottom of her mouth.</p><p>“You go in first Diana.”</p><p>Dinah’s warm voice hit the back of her head like a rock.</p><p>“An excellent idea, Prettybird!” Oliver gushed.</p><p>Diana forced her gaze back to the foreboding front door, biting her lower lip raw.</p><p>“Di, you go in, take your time, and decide what to keep. We’ll <strong>all</strong> wait here till you’re done.”</p><p>Everyone gave a pointed look at Barda. She leveled each with a deadly glare, clearly not on board with the plan. Though, to her credit, she didn’t protest…or decapitate Ollie.</p><p>“Then the movers can get to work.”</p><p>Diana didn’t hear anything else the world had gone silent.</p><p>From behind came a gentle push and she passed underneath the stone eagle’s stare.</p><p>She became aware that she was inside the building when the door slammed behind her.</p><p>Her heart jumped, skin tingling, as it clicked shut.</p><p>She twisted the tassels on her shawl through her fingers.</p><p>It was dark inside, eerie, and oddly loud in its silence.</p><p>Light creeped through sheer drapes that muted the sunlight into a blue tinted mist that scattered through the space, letting one see but not move hastily.</p><p>Out of instinct she removed her straw bonnet and lace gloves, laying them on a foyer table.</p><p>Freed from the blinder of the hat she could move her sight feely. Turning her neck and head fluidly, she slowly rotated, taking in the foyer from floor to ceiling.</p><p>She halted.</p><p>Her vision caught a reflection in an enormous baroque mirror on the wall.</p><p>It was a girl.</p><p>She took a timid side-step towards it, afraid of scaring her off.</p><p>She was tall, with a Grecian profile, high cheekbones, a long slender neck, and fading tanned skin set against black eyebrows that were thick and politely curved.</p><p>Rich raven hair fell down her back, tied loosely away from her face with a white ribbon joining the cascade of silky curls.</p><p>Her face looked serene, her countenance demure, posture and bearing proper, the air about her noble and polite.</p><p>Even her clothes spoke of a delicate being, innocent, modest, with a demure gaze.</p><p>The girl wore a dress made from layers of diaphanous white cotton muslin edged with bobbin lace.</p><p>Though made from extremely lightweight cotton, typical for a daytime fabric, the wide scooped neckline and short, puffed sleeves cut along the lines of an evening gown.</p><p>The pleated "fan-front" bodice ending in a sharp V, natural waist placement, and tiered skirt were consistent of refined fashion.</p><p>The length of the skirt hid the wearer's feet, but the slimmest peak of pink could be seen at the white cotton’s edge, telling of satin slippers concealed underneath.</p><p>A printed cotton shawl of pink primrose posies scattered across a field of dove gray draped delicately through the crooks of her elbows, held in place by folded hands.</p><p>This girl was a <em>perfect</em> English lady.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She thought,</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>It’s me.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>What disturbed her about the likeness to the point of no recognition?</p><p>It was not because she looked foreign or out of place, but rather she <strong>fit</strong> so seamlessly in the portrait cast upon the glass. At first sight she could not comprehend it.</p><p>The image of herself held in her mind’s eye was of a tan faced little girl, the shortest of her sisters, with unruly curls escaping a braid, and eyes too big for her face.</p><p>She dressed in bright colored silks, had bare feet that couldn’t stay still, and wrists jangling with as many bangles as she could fit, to hear the pretty music they played.</p><p>It was a jolt to the senses seeing how much she had changed.</p><p>She touched her cheek, watching the reflected girl mimicked the act.</p><p>Her reaction wasn’t sadness or anger, simply strangeness…perhaps curiosity?</p><p>How would the girl she saw now have fit, if she’d grown up here, in this house, in this world?</p><p>She drifted from room to room, through halls and corridors, unaware of her surroundings as chambers and rooms passed by, the rapidly erased blur of a dream.</p><p>She awoke from this slumbered wander in a vast gallery devoted to the arts and objects of a time long past.</p><p>Statues, artifacts, and paintings lined the walls in an endless hall, the end of which could not be discerned in the dim lighting.</p><p>There were no windows but a network of skylights, crafted in designs of constellations and stars, filtered the sun’s rays through their clear glass to the black marble floor below.</p><p>From this pool of darkness grew tall Corinthian columns of white stone in double rows down the center of the hall, like wafts of mist climbing from the black river Styx, grave of fallen stars.</p><p>She didn’t know how she’d come to be here, didn’t remember which way she’d come, but now awake from sleep, her eyes drank it in.</p><p>Whoever amassed this collection had an affinity for ancient Greece; not just the mythology, though that was heavily featured, but its history and variety of cultures too.</p><p>Both classical and Minoan works, as well as replicas, were present.</p><p>Presented in a chronological display the pieces had detailed engraved plaques, hung beneath on their pedestals, categorizing each item as if this were some grand museum.</p><p>There were Spartan battle helmets, Athenian scrolls, Corinthian harps and lyres, Minoan stone works with restored paint, Thracian spears, and jewelry from across the Hellenistic world.</p><p>She spied a sword that her fingers itched to touch.</p><p>Even in the poor light she could tell by the warped liquid metal pattern that it was made of Damascus steel.</p><p>
  <em>What Shayera wouldn’t give to see this!</em>
</p><p>It was obvious that this weapon was not from the ancient era or lands of the other artifacts but had been inspired by those swords of old.</p><p>Despite the near painful desire to swing the ancient blade she didn’t dare to touch it. Terrified she might damage such a priceless object that didn’t belong to her.</p><p>Of course, technically it <em>did</em> belong to her now…but it still didn’t feel right.</p><p>She kept walking, moving down the gallery. The echo of slippers’ soft leather soles on marble was the only sound as she continued her exploration.</p><p>Behind the artifacts, which included a full set of leather and metal armor from the time of Alexander the Great, were huge paintings done in the neo-classical French style.</p><p>Telling the story of ancient Greece, the paintings began with historical scenes, starting at Alexander cutting the Gordian-Knot, and winding back to when the line between history and myth blurred, and the tales of mythology reigned.</p><p>She paused to look at one scene, Hercules meeting the Amazon Queen.</p><p>Hippolyta was depicted as proud and regal, dressed in full armor with a glittering crown adorning her yellow hair.</p><p>Diana smiled.</p><p>It was exactly how she’d imagined her to be.</p><p>Enthralled by the picture, she nearly missed the gold upper armbands that were displayed beneath it.</p><p>Curious, she carefully picked up one of the bands, rotating it in her hands, memorizing the motifs with the pads of her thumbs.</p><p> It had a depiction of the goddesses Athena, wearing a helmet, with a spear in one hand, and an Eagle resting on the other, and Artemis, bow drawn with an arrow poised and a crescent moon adorning her head.</p><p>The Warriors &amp; Virgins band, the plague said.</p><p>She carefully picked up the other one, studying it closely.</p><p>On this one was the images of the Queen of the gods, Hera, wearing a crown and holding a pomegranate in her outstretched palm while gesturing to her peacock with the other, and the goddess Aphrodite, who lounged beside her own bird companion, a swan, while a flying dove brought her a bow of myrtle leaves.</p><p>The Mothers &amp; Rulers band, she read.</p><p>She held the two bracelets together in her hands, contemplating.</p><p>Looking hastily around, as if afraid of being caught even though she was alone, Diana slipped her hand through the bands, deciding to take them with her.</p><p>Emboldened by her first decision she made another. Going back the way she came, to find the sword again.</p><p>Locating the blade, she bit her bottom lip as she eyed it, second guessing herself.</p><p>Tentatively she reached out and took hold of the hilt, lifting it off the stand.</p><p>It was heavier than it looked, but thanks to her months of training with Artemis it was not unwieldly. In fact, it felt almost natural in her grasp, like it was always meant to be there in her hands, made specifically for her.</p><p>Spying a leather sheath peaking from behind the stand she took it and hid the sharp blade inside.</p><p>Gripping the sword in her left hand, she walked further into the cavernous treasure trove. The gold bands jingling against one other, swinging loose on her wrist, and bouncing off the intricate hilt.</p><p>She passed more paintings and antiques, statues, both original and replicas, till she at last reached the passage’s end.</p><p>Twin portraits hung on either side of a marble archway that led to a receiving room of some kind.</p><p>In front of the arch, also carved of marble and jutting out of its posts, were two statues meant to depict their subjects as beings of mythology while their portraits, hanging beside, showed them in life.</p><p>She glanced at the works on the left.</p><p>The portrait: a man lounging against a pillar with folded arms, dressed in a crisp court uniform wearing the robes of the Order of the Garter, looking out on the world with mischievous brown eyes and an amused smirk.</p><p>His statue was the depiction of Apollo, with a lyre in his hand, head turned, and gaze directed towards his companion.</p><p>Diana gave these pieces a curtesy glance, but her real interest lay with those to her right.</p><p>Like a hungry beggar, the girl crept closer to the painting, almost reverent in her fascination.</p><p>It showed a woman of breathtaking beauty seated on a velvet stool; hands placed elegantly in her lap. Her slim neck stretched tall beneath the weight of her rich golden tresses, piled high and adorned with a diamond scrollwork tiara.</p><p>Her chin was raised proudly, her azure eyes looked out with regal removal but keen intelligence. Her high cheekbones and rolled back shoulders gave the impression of an unbending nature, and perhaps a bit of haughtiness.</p><p>She didn’t seem sad, like in the portrait Diana had at home, just uninterestedly observing.</p><p>The girl smiled up at her with pride that such a magnificent, commanding being had given her life. Simply put, the woman was awe inspiring.</p><p>Her gown was cut in the fashion of a late 1820s court dress of embroidered velvet in harvest gold against shimmering white satin lining folded back over the puffed sleeves, held in place by twin ruby and diamond brooches.</p><p>A waterfall of roped pearls ran down her bodice and a choker of diamonds gleamed at her throat.</p><p>Falling from her shoulders lay the crimson velvet train of an English duchess, edged with miniver.</p><p>Everything about her was perfect, her manner, her face, her clothes…absolutely perfect.</p><p>Diana moved to the marble statue, comparing its detailed face to the one in the portrait.</p><p>She was depicted as Daphne, looking to the side and slightly up, away from Apollo.</p><p>Her graceful slim arms stretched out as the carved face watched the tips of her fingers begin to sprout laurel leaves. Her hair fell loose and free, a simple chiton that appeared to be billowing in some forgotten breeze clung to her form as one exposed slender foot began to change into roots in the ground.</p><p>A small bird rested on her shoulder, as if waiting for a new tree to be born and for nature’s Queen to take her throne. The marble face smiled softly, knowing she had won, and was blessed by the gods to outwit their son.</p><p>Diana reached up shaking fingers and gently ran them across the statue’s cheek, trying so hard to remember what it had been like when this woman had breathed.</p><p>Had she looked at Diana like that, with a smile so soft and sweet?</p><p>Was her cheek smooth to caress and warm to kiss?</p><p>Had those graceful arms ever held her tight?</p><p>Did these vacant eyes once delight in her child being in their sight?</p><p>Try as she might to awaken her thoughts, they did not come…and this woman…<em>her mother</em>, remained a mystery to her memory.</p><p>She let her hand fall back to her side, tightening the shawl around her shoulders as she walked beyond the statues empty gaze and further into this house of lost secrets.</p><p>She climbed stairs and wandered halls until she no longer knew which way she’d come nor which way to go.</p><p>Each new room she passed seemed to beckon her in and scorn her away, bombarding her with questions and hopeful expectations.</p><p>Did this rug look familiar?</p><p>Might that chair have once seemed tall?</p><p>Was that a portrait of her pony…did she ever have one at all?</p><p>Surely something here must have been recognizable, some understood shade or scent. How could she possibly have been born in this place but have no recollection of the time spent?</p><p>Had there been laughter here, had she been happy, or loved?</p><p>She knew what those things felt like, had known them all her life. The comfort and joy of home and a mother’s love. But was this place really a part of her if she couldn’t remember a single moment passed in its’ halls, or the ones left behind when she’d <em>died?</em></p><p>She passed into another endless hallway, this one covered in dark royal blue wallpaper, carpets, and drapes all edged in shimmering silver, swallowing her up in its silvery murky abyss.</p><p>It felt like death here.</p><p>As if the old house were a crypt of forgotten souls.</p><p>Everything was so quiet and dark, silent and cold, like stone.</p><p>Yes, stone.</p><p>Even her bones seemed to slowly be turning to stone, stiffening, and hardening from within. Calcifying around her very heart till soon she would be nothing more than another statue, uselessly haunting the hall.</p><p>The silence was growing louder.</p><p>How was that possible?</p><p>It was closing in on her, as her feet became marble and her breath sharpened to crystal.</p><p>She had to get out of here before it was too late!</p><p>Seeking some place of solace, any manner of escape, she spied a door and ran toward it, ignorant of dropping the sword in her haste.</p><p>Once safe inside, she slammed the door, bracing her back against it, and squeezing her eyes shut tight, wary of certain attack.</p><p>Her lungs thawed, her stiff limbs melted, and as the seconds passed, she could once again breathe with ease.</p><p>The ticking of a clock reached her ears.</p><p>Its steady rhythm calming her heart and soothing her fears as she slowly coaxed her eyelids to open.</p><p>Surprised by what she found, her previous trepidation vanished, as she looked around the space with keen interest.</p><p>It was a study, but completely different from the rest of the house, which had a fanciful and royal quality. This room was shockingly simple and almost cozy in its decoration, revealing more of the nature of its owner then the grand galleries and salons she had recently passed by.</p><p>The colors, now muted and faded, were likely once rich and warm to behold, creating an intimate space to relax and study, and the scents of tobacco and peppermint hung musty in the air.</p><p>The floor was polished wood in a chevron parquet pattern. In the room’s center it was covered with a Persian rug of brown, copper, and gold, of as superior a quality as she had ever seen.</p><p>On top of the rug were horsehair chairs in mustard yellow, whose seats and cushions had round circles where the color had all but worn away from use.</p><p>They were angled toward a marble fireplace that bore the Princeton Eagle and family words in its design.</p><p>“Habeo Fortitudo, Requiro Justitia, Tribuo Misericordia.” Diana muttered, wondering what the strange words might mean.</p><p>(<em>Have Courage, Seek Justice, Grant Mercy</em>)</p><p>She spied a pack of matches and tin of tobacco on the mantle, as well as a simple varnished clock.</p><p>Backing away she almost tripped over a green tufted ottoman sitting beside one of the lounge chairs, causing her to look down.</p><p>It didn’t fit with the other décor, like someone had brought it in to sit on and then forgotten to take it away.</p><p>Diana carefully maneuvered around it.</p><p>Painted walls of stripes in contrasting shades of canary yellow trimmed in white moldings were covered in drawings.</p><p>Some were simple pin and ink sketches, others painted in oil or watercolor, and still more in pencil and charcoal.</p><p>Many had been done on canvas, or fine parchment, but more than a few were just scribblings on old scraps of paper or torn book pages. And while most were hung in frames, some were simply tacked to the wall wherever there was room.</p><p>The works showed an artist of great skill and depicted a range of subjects from simple line works of the window view, to hastily sketched portraits, and moments preserved in time from the artists many travels.</p><p>Each one, no matter how humble or grand, had the date and description penciled at the bottom in a rushed hand, making some words all but illegible. One thing that was clear on each though were the initials <strong><em>ZP</em></strong>.</p><p>Diana went to look at one, a pencil and color sketch of a wild cat drinking from a stream. The description read: <em>Cheetah seen at sunrise while on Safari, Africa 1807</em>.</p><p>She moved to another, this one small but detailed, on canvas with oil paints.</p><p>A lady knelt in profile with folded hands before a priest in stately robes. Her head was bowed, her eyes closed.</p><p>She wore a gown of silver, embroidered at the bottom with eagles and lilies, the body and sleeves trimmed with silver lace. A train, also in silver lined with white satin, pooled behind her.</p><p>Yellow gold hair, elegantly yet simply arranged, with curling fringe framing her face. A sheer veil was anchored by a tiara sat low on the forehead and pearl drops hung from her ears.</p><p>The description said: <em>Divine H. during the wedding blessing. Looks a bit like Emp. Josephine don’t you think? 1818</em>.</p><p>Diana stepped away from the picture, pained that, despite her pride in remembering her mother’s hair, she hadn’t recognized her likeness until reading the description, even though it was an accurate depiction when compared to the two portraits of her she had seen.</p><p>When she turned, something familiar caught her eye in the drawings.</p><p>A watercolor of a brick house on a cliff overlooking the sea.</p><p>Diana studied the drawing in wonder, for despite the much tidier and well-kept appearance in the pencil lines it was still clearly the same house she had seen every day this summer living with the Troys, and she knew it well.</p><p>Quickly she scanned the description and her lips curled into a smile.</p><p><em>Visiting Aunt A. Painfully boring but a nice view, Lancashire 1795</em>.</p><p>She traced the outline of the house over the glass, wondering if she had ever visited it before, when it had looked so grand.</p><p>Dozens of other personal artworks covered the walls, but Diana was disinclined to look at them anymore. They brought up too many questions of things that might have been and speculations of what had been forgot.</p><p>Instead, she walked over to the desk.</p><p>It sat before a bank of bookcases but there wasn’t a book in sight. Rather the shelves were laden with various items of sporting equipment; tennis rackets, polo mallets, and such, as well as bits and pieces of discarded art supplies, and strange mementos and clutter that might have held special meaning, or just as easily been neglected junk.</p><p>Ignoring the cluttered cases, she came to stand behind the desk.</p><p>The top was perfectly clean, so she began to open its quantity of drawers, pulling out whatever caught her attention and laying the items out on the desk’s surface.</p><p>First, she discovered an unfinished ink sketch of a spaniel asleep before the marble fireplace.</p><p>She looked for the description.</p><p>Not finding one she flipped the paper over to see a doodle of a small flower beside a hastily written note. <em>In honor of faithful Sgt. Pym, I’m sorry I didn’t finish this one in time. RIP 1826-1837.</em></p><p>“1826 to 1837.” Diana mumbled. “So, we lived here at the same time. Was this my dog?”</p><p>She turned the page over and concentrated on the drawing, trying to summon even the slightest bit of a memory.</p><p>“Did I like you?” she asked. “Did you like me?”</p><p>She tried to think of what color his fur had been.</p><p>Was it brown or maybe gray?</p><p>Did he bark loudly or prefer to sleep during the day?</p><p>“Pym.” She recited, hoping hearing the name might bring him back to mind, but nothing came.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” She murmured, returning the parchment to the drawer, not wanting to see it anymore.</p><p>Next, she pulled out a brass wax-seal-stamp.</p><p>It fit neatly in the palm of her hand and, of course, had a spread winged eagle.</p><p>She placed the seal on top of the desk and returned to exploring.</p><p>Her nail caught on something and she reached her hand deeper into the drawer to retrieve it.</p><p>It was a pair of oversized, horn-rimmed, round, eyeglasses.</p><p>Diana held them up to get a better look.</p><p>They reminded her of the pair Clark wore, except these were much bigger.</p><p>His fit smaller on his face and he occasionally had to turn his whole head to see through them. In fact, these were the widest lenses she’d ever seen!</p><p>They must have been custom ordered, the fashion seemed to be for spectacles to be as small and unnoticeable as possible. This pair was the antithesis of fashion, but Diana felt they were probably more practical for improving one’s sight.</p><p>Intrigued she held them up to her face, turned them around, and slowly putting them on.</p><p>At first nothing seemed any different, but then she looked down at the seal stamp on the desk.</p><p>She gasped!</p><p>Never had she seen something that close to her face so clear before!</p><p>Diana grabbed the stamp and brought it to the glass lenses, fascinated to realize that the eagle had a small olive branch in its beak that she hadn’t seen before.</p><p>Excited she turned to the bookcase, groaning when she remembered there were no books on it.</p><p>Having a different idea, she tore open all the desk drawers and began searching desperately for something with words on it.</p><p>Finding a pile of papers, she stood up and began reading them out loud, laughing with joy as each word appeared clear and crisp in her vision. As she finished reading one receipt she’d discarded it for another.</p><p>Had letters always been so precise?</p><p>She could hardly wait to go home and give those music sheets another try. She didn’t see how she could possibly get the notes wrong now.</p><p>She was just ending the pile of papers, intent on finding more, when she froze.</p><p>In her hand was a neatly folded letter, crisp and stiff, like it had just been written, except for the slightly yellowing edges of the parchment. On the front was written one word, <em>Hippolyta</em>.</p><p>Turning it over in her hand she found the wax seal unbroken.</p><p>Diana took a shaky breath.</p><p>She recognized the handwriting from the drawings on the walls. Zachary had written this, and for some reason Hippolyta had never read it…no one had.</p><p>Suddenly nervous she dropped the letter onto the desk.</p><p>It landed in front of a simply framed drawing that she had failed to notice before. Picking it up, she brought it to her face. Her eyebrows knitted together as she looked at the strange picture.</p><p>It was of an old man, sitting on a mustard yellow chair, wearing a house coat and slippers, staring straight ahead while he held a pencil poised over a table beside him.</p><p>His white hair was unkempt, his mouth grim, a wrinkled forehead made it difficult to know if he was frowning or not, and hard brown eyes looked through a pair of oversized, horn-rimmed, round, eyeglasses.</p><p>The words beneath said: <em>A self-portrait, how disappointing, 1838</em>.</p><p>A shiver ran down her spine. She returned the picture and tightened the shawl around her arms. A cold wind seemed to have crept into the room and her previously adventurous spirit vanished.</p><p>Removing the glasses, she carefully closed the rounded temple bars, and wrapped them in her handkerchief, so they wouldn’t scratch.</p><p>They only seemed to make a difference when looking at something up close but still they might come to be useful.</p><p>She took the unopened letter and wax stamp, before moving away from the desk and back to the middle of the room where she wouldn’t be in the way.</p><p>Diana looked around the study one more time, taking note of everything and waiting to see if anything felt familiar.</p><p>It didn’t.</p><p>It had been a fun moment, ransacking the desk. It was like a treasure hunt or mystery in a story book that she could enjoy without being involved.</p><p>But seeing that self-portrait brought reality crashing back down on her.</p><p>This wasn’t a game, these weren’t characters in a play, this was supposed to be…<em>had been</em> her home…and the people whose things she was now forced to scavenge through…she didn’t know them.</p><p>It felt like stealing.</p><p>As she circled, she felt herself becoming stiff again, comfortably distanced as the things around her remained foreign to her memory.</p><p>It allowed the pressure to lift and for her mind to forget that she was supposed to have any ties here, and once again the people who had lived here could return to being imaginary.</p><p>She stopped, facing the fireplace, her blood turning to ice water in her veins.</p><p>Diana’s eyes locked onto the painting above the mantle. Her whole body began to tremble, and she wrapped her arms around her chest, trying to hold herself still, as her lungs forgot how to draw air.</p><p>How had she not seen it when she first came in?</p><p>The game of pretend was over, and there would be no ignorant bliss to return to this time.</p><p>A portrait, beautifully done by a master, of an infant girl with a head of black curls and big azure eyes.</p><p>She was sitting on a cushion in the grass while a spaniel dog kept guard at her feet, his red tongue sticking out to lick the baby’s cheek.</p><p>The baby girl, with rosy pink cheeks, matching the ribbons on her white gown, looked adoringly up at someone beyond the frame’s gaze.</p><p>Plump dimpled cheeks framed a drooling smile, with two little teeth peeking out above her bottom lip.</p><p>She appeared so utterly delighted that you could almost hear the warmth of a baby’s laugh echoing.</p><p>Chubby little hands reached up, in the left small fat fingers tightly gripped a bunch of purplish flowers, waving them to the invisible person, while her free hand stretched out to them.</p><p>At the edge of the frame, directly following the baby’s gaze, a pair of hands lowered into the scene, to pick her up.</p><p>The hands seemed gentle and loving, but if they belonged to a man or a woman she could not tell, there was no jewelry or sleeve visible to explain.</p><p>But the baby was happy to see those hands, that was obvious, and her delight thrust a knife into Diana’s chest.</p><p><em>That was me</em>.</p><p>Her vision blurred, waves of guilt, confusion, and fear washed over her.</p><p>She shouldn’t be here, everything about this felt wrong, like desecrating a tomb.</p><p>She wasn’t <em>meant</em> to be here.</p><p>It was like <em>she</em> was <strong>dead</strong>.</p><p>Fleeing through the door Diana ran away, gripping her stolen treasures so tight her knuckles turned white.</p><p>She wanted to run from this house. To run and run and run until the unanswerable questions and hopeful family faces disappeared.</p><p>She stopped!</p><p>Taking deep breaths to calm her pounding heart and keep her quivering legs from collapsing, she observed the environment.</p><p>It was the same blue corridor from before, but she couldn’t tell if this section was new to her or old.</p><p>Not knowing from where she’d come or how to leave, she went to the first door she saw and opened it, praying something good and familiar waited on the other side.</p><p>The hinges creaked and screamed as the door forced open, years of neglect had all but fused it shut. Stepping inside Diana felt the door begin to fight back and creep closed on its own. She pushed it the rest of the way with her hand.</p><p>As it shut everything was plunged into total darkness.</p><p>Feeling her way along the wall she stumbled along till her fingers caught the stubbly velvet of drapes.</p><p>With a mighty pull she threw back the curtains, flooding the room with light.</p><p>Diana hurriedly turned away from the window, blinking rapidly to try and banish the dark spots that burned her vision from the offending sun.</p><p>Once she was no longer blind, she took in the room that had become her latest hiding place.</p><p>It was a bedroom, somewhat small in size, but with grand features.</p><p>The walls were painted light sea blue boiserie paneling with gold gilded moldings of seashells and olive leaves.</p><p>The panels’ lines expertly concealed several hidden doors for closets and servants, but there were also two more traditionally styled doors in white and gold with brass handles.</p><p>The first door, the one Diana had entered through, was across from the window where she now stood, a canopied four-poster bed standing between them.</p><p>The second, was along the far wall across from the foot of the bed and seemed just as unused and sealed off as the first door had been.</p><p>The bed covers and drapings were crème colored, but the underside of the canopy and curtains were lined in sky blue silk.</p><p>The bedframe was gilded and upholstered in the same light blue fabric. The canopy reached far above her head and had three ostrich feathers decorating each of the four corners.</p><p>Walking further into the space, Diana felt the bristle of the carpet beneath her shoes transition to smooth wood and watched the sunlight bounce off the various gildings and scatter dots of light over the floor like crystals.</p><p>She tiptoed over to the edge of the bed, frowning quizzically.</p><p>A dark blue riding habit lay on the comforter, a pair of boots sat neatly on the floor underneath, and a crop leaned against one of the bedposts, as if waiting their mistress’s return.</p><p>A purple cashmere shawl was laid beside the outfit, with a gold paisley design along the bottom hems.</p><p>Carefully placing the letter, glasses, bracelets, and seal on the bed, Diana took off her own shawl and tossed it over the treasures before gently picking up the piece of purple cloth.</p><p>It was like a cloud in her hands, so soft, the rectangular fabric rippled through her fingers like water.</p><p>There were two tiny letters stitched into the design at one of the corners. Holding it up to the light, she read the initials: H. P.</p><p>“H.P.” Diana whispered. “Hippolyta Princeton.”</p><p>This was her mother’s room, and this had been her shawl.</p><p>Diana smiled at the discovery, wrapping the purple Kashmir shawl over her elbows before heading to the dark wood vanity to see how it looked.</p><p>She turned in front of the mirror, smiling at the effect and wondering if she’d ever seen her mother wear this.</p><p>Something on the vanity caught her attention and she began exploring.</p><p>In one of the drawers, she found a diary of red leather with the initials H. L. P. embossed on its cover in fading gold letters.</p><p>Elated she added it to her collection on the bed, deciding to wrap all her discoveries up in her old shawl to carry.</p><p>Next, there was a tiny box with a note tied to it that said, <em>From Mother to Hippolyta on her 16<sup>th</sup> Birthday, 1809.</em></p><p>Inside was a ring, its thin band made of platinum with a large, clear, pair-shaped diamond in its center, flanked on either side by three smaller diamonds in the shape of leaves.</p><p>Diana slipped the ring onto the third finger of her right hand. It was a bit loose, but she liked how she could twirl it around her finger with her thumb without it falling off.</p><p>Just as she was about to move on, she noticed a red velvet case sitting on a side table.</p><p>Intrigued she lifted the lid and let out an excited gasp.</p><p>She remembered this!</p><p>It was a diamond scrollwork tiara, and Diana <em>knew</em> she had seen it before.</p><p>But as she bent down to study it closer, her smile faded away.</p><p>She straightened back up.</p><p>This was the tiara her mother had worn in the painting downstairs…so did she remember it from her childhood, or was this just a quick connection to seeing it for the first time an hour ago?</p><p>
  <em>Was the recognition false?</em>
</p><p>Her joy disintegrated as she slowly closed the case and gathered up her bundle of things.</p><p>Walking to the second door she turned the knob.</p><p>She wanted to leave.</p><p>The door transported her into an adjoining room that too had a second door leading back into the hall. But this one had been secured open to prevent it from ever being closed to the hallway.</p><p>Cautiously she stepped in, feeling a sense of calm and warmth envelop her.</p><p>It was a beautiful nursery.</p><p>Unlike the rest of the house this room was bright and filled with light. Velvet drapes were tied back with braided cord and sheer cotton linings fluttered before three full length windows that looked out onto the street below.</p><p>The walls were covered in rich chinoiserie painted wall canvas, depicting a garden full of pink, lavender, and peach hues as well as less subtle greens and blues, all framed with white molding along the ceiling, windows, and floor.</p><p>Hidden birds in trees, strangely dressed ladies lounging among the flowers having tea, swans on a lake, and distant figures of princesses and knights lay hidden throughout the intricate design.</p><p>It was like looking out a window at a magical world that you could almost walk through.</p><p>The floor was covered in pale pink carpet with swirling designs in silver thread, reminding her of blowing winds across a sunset starry sky.</p><p>One light fixture hung from the center of the ceiling, made to look like an opening lotus flower with candles rising from within the petals.</p><p>A plethora of every toy one could imagine was there, some carefully displayed while others lay strewn on the floor as if they had only recently been played with.</p><p>Diana carefully stepped over a wooden model of Noah’s ark to get to a fascinating little Toy Theater made of paperboard and tinseling. It looked exactly like the stage from the opera house she had visited with Lois and Clark.</p><p>Kneeling on the floor she marveled at the incredible detail of the little theater.</p><p>There was a small script propped against its side that read <em>Oberon</em>, and paper doll actors on metal stands, all in costume, stood pinned into the stage floor.</p><p>Spying a crank handle on the toy’s base she turned it and laughed with delight as the figures began to dance and move across the stage, performing a scene while the backdrops changed into position.</p><p>After playing the scene three times, she stood up.</p><p>She spied a doll house, made to look like a medieval castle, a small table and chairs set with a miniature tea set, several dolls of all sizes with painted porcelain faces wore fancy dresses and silly hats, some worse for wear than others.</p><p>A big painted rocking horse with a red saddle and chipping paint on the ears was surrounded by several smaller wooden horse toys, like they had all been corralled.</p><p>There was a yellow wagon on the floor, turned over on its side, with several dolls spilling out, one of whom was dressed like a Russian soldier and had a smashed head. The rest resembled a variety of ethnic backgrounds; an African prince, a Chinese lady, a French queen, an Indian Raj, his wife, and several she couldn’t identify.</p><p>Diana almost tripped on a blue ball as she went to a line of shelves beside the wall of windows, where most of the toys were housed.</p><p>A platoon of tin soldiers in British red stood in a line ready to face an opposing force of Frenchmen in blue.</p><p>Next to this army, some of whom had bent and twisted limbs with little bandages made of fabric scraps, was a set of carved figurines, six in total. They were mice in various positions and sizes, meant to be mimicking humans, as one had a tiny pair of wire spectacles on his long nose and a paper scrap tied to his paw to look like a newspaper.</p><p>Diana smiled as she picked up each figure, reading the name painted on the bottom. <em>Mr. Mousington, Mrs. Mousington, Felix, Harriet, Minny, and Aunt Poppy.</em></p><p>She returned the little family and walked to a dusty, pink, stuffed, armchair sitting in a corner.</p><p>On the chair’s seat a book lay open.</p><p>She turned her head to try and see it right-side-up.</p><p>The opened page showed a picture of a King with the name Alfred written below.</p><p>The pages were stiff and yellow, so she didn’t dare touch it and instead left it be, moving on.</p><p>In the center of the room was a white, wrought-iron, cradle decorated with white cotton bedding and adorned with pink ribbons tied into bows along its rounded top.</p><p>Set on a frame the bassinet swung freely, making the ribbons sway with the rocking motion meant to calm a sleeping child.</p><p>The stand curved up and over into a shepherd’s crook, over which a diaphanous lace canopy hung over the cradle with pink streams of ribbon running down.</p><p>A mobile of crystal stars circled a golden sun and blue glass moon above the little pillow that would’ve held the baby’s head.</p><p>She ran her fingers over the cold metal and brushed the lace aside to look inside.</p><p>A small bouquet of dried purple flowers hung from the mobile.</p><p>She touched the crisp petals with her finger, wondering who had left them there and why?</p><p>There didn’t seem to be anything special about the flowers, she had seen them many times while living in Kent. In fact, they were the same type of flower as was painted in the portrait she’d seen in the study.</p><p>What were they called again?</p><p>Diana racked her brain trying to recall the word Clark had used when he’d picked a few to bring back for his mother.</p><p>“Violets!” she cried.</p><p>Yes, that was it, these were called violets.</p><p>She smiled at her victory, but the corners of her mouth soon fell as she again tried to remember the significance of such an ordinary flower.</p><p>Nothing came to mind; they were pretty though.</p><p>Giving up on yet another mystery she looked down into the cradle.</p><p>Among the frothy lace edged blankets and white cotton sheets sat a little stuffed friend, almost hidden among the pillows.</p><p>Diana reached in and freed the little creature, bringing it over to the window to have a better look.</p><p>It was an animal, but not one she had ever seen before.</p><p>Hand sewn in soft brown velveteen and stuffed with cotton, it had wide flat feet, a long face, big ears lined with sunny yellow satin, one of which no longer stood up straight but flopped over, black button eyes, a fuzzy white belly made from an old piece of fur muff with a little pocket sewn into it, and a thick tale that helped her sit up.</p><p>The pads of the stuffed toys hands and feet were also yellow satin but were thinning from where they had been held too much.</p><p>She turned the toy over in her hand, she felt a kinship to its odd self.</p><p>On the bottom of its side was stitched the words <em>Jumpa the Kangaroo</em>.</p><p>“Well Miss Jumpa,” Diana said, smiling at the stuffed toy. “I don’t know what a Kangaroo is, but would you like to come with me?”</p><p>She giggled at the ridiculousness of asking a toy’s permission before slipping it inside the bundle of treasures.</p><p>The last thing left to see was a tall chest of drawer on the wall with the second door. It stood across from the cradle and was the simplest item in the room.</p><p>She started at the bottom, working her way up through the various drawers. They were filled with carefully pressed and neatly folded baby clothes and accessories.</p><p>Finding nothing remarkably interesting in the drawers she looked at the top of the chest and saw a plain wooden box with a little crank on the side like the toy theater had.</p><p>Curious Diana turned the crank until it stopped and then let go.</p><p>The lid of the box lifted, and an Automaton emerged, no bigger than the length of her hand.</p><p>A Greek maiden, with porcelain skin and long raven hair wearing a light green chiton, Persephone the goddess of spring, arose on a plane of emerald grass and jeweled flowers.</p><p>She began to play a tiny flute of golden pan pipes while mechanical birds rose and fell around on thin wires in mimicked flight.</p><p>The figurine danced as she played, and a tinkering tune began to sing from deep inside the box.</p><p>Diana watched in silence, listening.</p><p>This song, did she know this song? It felt familiar.</p><p>Her frustration grew.</p><p>The notes playing held a reminiscent sound to her ear.</p><p>But was it familiar because she <strong>remembered</strong>, or because she so desperately <strong>wanted to</strong>?</p><p>Diana looked away from the dancing doll and scanned the beautiful, <em>perfect</em>, nursery one more time.</p><p>Whoever had designed this room had done it with extreme care. It was obvious from every detail that the child who it had been made for was dearly loved.</p><p>
  <em>…<strong>I </strong>was loved…</em>
</p><p>Everything from the cradle, to the toys, the music box, and the book left open to the last page that was read shouted of that devoted love and deep longing.</p><p>A love she couldn’t remember…no matter how hard she tried too.</p><p>She could <strong>imagine</strong> what it was like to live here, to sleep in this room, or to love a toy. But was that really how it was, or was it just her imagination?</p><p>“I don’t remember…I don’t.”</p><p>She slowly backed away from the music box.</p><p>As it’s plinking lullaby continued to play, she whispered, “<em>I’m so sorry</em>,” before sinking to the floor in a pool of white muslin.</p><p>The bundle of relics dropped somewhere by her side as she pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and lowered her head.</p><p>The music faded, time stood still, and her mind gradually went numb.</p><p>She was floating deep beneath the ocean’s surface, pulled down by the pressure yet floating. The density blocked out all the rambling thoughts and noise, allowing her to be <strong>still</strong>.</p><p> </p><p>A muffled voice was calling to her through the deep waters, fighting against the thick haze, but she couldn’t make out what it said.</p><p> </p><p>A hand touched her shoulder…who was here?</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>St. James Square, London England October 5<sup>th</sup>, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Bruce Wayne,</em>
</p><p>Bruce Wayne strolled through St. James Square; he’d planned to be here sooner. Though he hated being late he was pleased with how his morning’s errands had gone.</p><p>Lucius had met him first thing this morning to finalize any unfinished business with payments, salaries at the company, allowances for Alfred to run the house, etc.</p><p>Even though Bruce had postponed control of his inheritance until he was 30, Lucius had made sure to get the young man’s input on all matters and keep him as informed as possible on the state of his affairs.</p><p>Mister Fox had begun this process soon after the previous Duke’s death. Taking on the responsibility of training Thomas Wayne’s successor to be a prudent and fair businessman that his father could be proud of.</p><p>This did not mean Bruce had always paid close attention to Lucius’s teachings, quite the contrary. For most of his early years Bruce had been consumed with other things that Lucius didn’t wish to dwell on and had only listened out of courtesy.</p><p>But recently the young aristocrat had taken a more intentional interest in his inheritance, much to Lucius and Alfred’s great relief.</p><p>After his meeting with Mister Fox Bruce had checked up on the progress of renovating his London House. A special project he’d begun soon after proposing to Selina.</p><p>He’d spent the early hours going over plans with the architect, adding final touches and discussing any issues that might arise while he was away and how they should be dealt with.</p><p>Now of course he was running about thirty minutes behind schedule to meet Diana and the Queens.</p><p>He quickened his step, glancing at his pocket watch.</p><p>Thankfully, his was only a short distance from Hever House, being in the same neighborhood. He could also take comfort in the fact that he had given no definite time of arrival, only the early afternoon, so it shouldn’t be too inconvenient.</p><p>Bruce caught sight of his house on the left as he crossed the tranquil street, smiling at the scaffolding and hum of work.</p><p>The new wing was coming along nicely. Hopefully, it would be finished before long. They might even be able to move in upon his return.</p><p>Bruce had designed it himself, ordering a complete restructure of the old building, which was in a bad state of neglect.</p><p>The <em>new</em> Gotham House would hold no resemblance to its predecessor and include several expansions as well as a new entrance that was less formal and more relaxed, leading directly into the receiving room instead of a grand hall. This last feature had been something he’d observed while in Italy and he was intrigued by the idea.</p><p>He wanted the exterior to be in the Gothic Revival style.</p><p>It would be completely different from the Tudor austerity of Queene’s Abbey or the Medieval/Jacobean/Rococo hodge-podge of styles that made up Wayne Castle.</p><p>Something unique, something for husband and wife to make their own.</p><p>Speaking of his wife, Bruce hoped Selina would be pleased with the surprise he had arranged for her, and possibly ease her distress at his departure.</p><p>He had never been a man gifted with expressing emotion with words, he preferred to demonstrate his feelings through actions.</p><p>Though the exterior and renovations were to his specifications, he was giving her a free hand with all the interiors to do with as she pleased.</p><p>In fact, he had just finished discussions with the decorator to be sure all sketches and samples were first sent to Selina for final approval before anything was done to the inside of the house.</p><p>He found he didn’t know what her personal style was, realizing she hadn’t had much opportunity to demonstrate one beyond her dress, but it didn’t matter to him. Bruce could just as happily live in a tent as a palace, so long as the rain stayed out and he could get a good cup of tea.</p><p>Let her have her way, and if it turned out his young bride had unfashionable tastes then he wouldn’t have to suffer a horde of nosy guests admiring his house.</p><p>Yes, hopefully this would help smooth things over, and when he returned their unfortunate episode would have resolved itself.</p><p>He truly felt the best thing for them both right now was to take some time to self-reflect after their first disagreement, and this unexpected absence might yet be a blessing in disguise. Never rush in, always analyze, and plan before acting that was his philosophy.</p><p>On the topic of departure, he noticed Hever House was already in his sights as he rounded the gardened square.</p><p>He was glad he’d have an afternoon to spend before saying goodbye to Diana. In all the chaos before leaving Kent he’d nearly forgotten his promise to stop by. Now, unexpectedly, he had some extra time to help before departing.</p><p>The house now loomed as he walked briskly to the group assembled in front.</p><p>An uneasy edge settled over him as he came to a stop in front of Oliver, something wasn’t right.</p><p>Where was she?</p><p>Bruce did a quick head count. Ollie, Dinah, Captain Lance, the Queens’ driver, the movers, and that mammoth of a maid, but no Diana.</p><p>His senses were on high alert, taking in every detail of his surroundings.</p><p>Oliver smiled cheerily at his cousin, Dinah waved, Barda glared, and the movers’ boisterous chatter filled his ears. Bruce ignored all of them, twisting his neck back and forth trying to find a certain teenager.</p><p>She must be here somewhere.</p><p>Had he missed her somehow?</p><p>The hairs on his neck bristled, worry starting to settle in the pit of his stomach.</p><p>“Bruce, you’re just in time to work!” quipped Oliver, slapping his hand on the man’s shoulder.</p><p>“Where’s Diana?” Bruce bluntly asked, ignoring his cousin’s jovial discourse.</p><p>“She’s inside.” Dinah answered, giving him a welcoming smile.</p><p>Bruce quickly scanned the group again, taking note of who was present.</p><p>“And who may I ask is with her?” His voice lowered.</p><p>Oliver and Dinah looked at one another, confused by Bruce’s urgency.</p><p>“We sent her in alone for a moment.” Captain Lance answered him.</p><p>“You what?” Bruce growled.</p><p>Ollie quickly retracted his hand.</p><p>“Diana went inside alone to decide what to take to Riverfoot.” Dinah stated in a cool voice, frowning at Bruce’s abrupt accusations.</p><p>He clenched his fists.</p><p>“So, I take it you’re responsible for this <em>brilliant</em> plan? I put too much faith in your intelligence, Dinah.” His voice was deadly calm.</p><p>“Why are you making a big deal out of nothing?” Dinah fired back.</p><p>“Now let’s all just calm down.” Oliver tried to interject. He should’ve done like Benjamin and Barda and moved to the safety of the sidelines. “We thought that maybe if Di had some time to herself it might help her rememb—”</p><p>“You idiots!”</p><p>“Hey, hold on!” Ollie defended. “We didn’t want to crowd, show some respect, give her a minute by herself.”</p><p>“Do you realize what you’ve done?” He shouted.</p><p>“Do you realize you’re overacting?” Dinah bit back, standing her ground while her husband flinched.</p><p>Bruce gave Dinah a cold glare which made her second guess debating with him.</p><p>“I’m going in, <strong>do not</strong> follow.”</p><p>Leaving the others stunned, Bruce marched towards the house, barely catching the bemused <em>humph</em> from behind him. He wasn’t certain, but the deep droll led him to believe it was most likely Barda.</p><p>He ripped the top hat off his head as the heavy door slammed behind with a resounding ring.</p><p>Immediately Bruce picked out the bonnet trimmed with wax orange blossoms and crème ribbon, and lace gloves resting on a side table.</p><p>He snatched up the hat, inspecting it for clues to which way she might’ve gone. It gave up no secrets.</p><p>He stuffed the lace gloves in his coat pocket, placing the straw bonnet on his upturned hat.</p><p>Noticing a small shadow distorting the reflection on a mirror further down he moved toward it.</p><p>It was the smudge of a handprint on the silver tarnished glass. Long slim fingers reaching out.</p><p>Choosing the nearest doorway, he hurried on, scanning for any sign this was the way she’d come, calling her name.</p><p> </p><p>“Diana, its Bruce!”</p><p> </p><p>Missing artifacts in the gallery confirmed he was on the right course and spurred him forward.</p><p> </p><p>“Diana, are you here?”</p><p> </p><p>Cresting the stairs, the trail of tampered items ran cold.</p><p> </p><p>“Diana?” he called again.</p><p> </p><p>No answer.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce swore under his breath.</p><p>Why wasn’t she answering?</p><p>Where could she be?</p><p>Kneeling, Bruce put his face on eyelevel with the blue carpet running down center of the hall. Watching the faint light catch on the pressed and bent fibers, a path of footprints appeared.</p><p>Back on his feet, he followed the trail.</p><p>“Diana, where are you?”</p><p>His pace quickened with every second he didn’t hear her voice, matching his raising fury.</p><p>How could they send her in by herself, were they blind to all her nervous cues?</p><p>The way her accent got thicker, how she became unfocused on a conversation, fidgeting with her clothes or hair, clamming up and becoming shy around familiar faces, constantly biting her lower lip, avoiding eye contact, or trying too hard to appear relaxed and happy by introducing multiple new topics of conversation.</p><p>Any one of those things should have sent off a chorus of warning bells if even one of those fools had been paying attention!</p><p>“DIANA!”</p><p>He was going to strangle Ollie.</p><p>Bruce was becoming frantic, fear building as he continued to search, his mind conjuring a variety of emotional triggers she might have found, and none of them led to the happy ending Dinah and Oliver were hoping for.</p><p>He was running out of footsteps; the trail became muddled.</p><p>Had she circled back?</p><p>Was she lost?</p><p>
  <em>Where were you going, Princess?</em>
</p><p>It felt like this hall went on forever. Then he saw a sword, dropped hurriedly in the middle of the floor.</p><p>He picked it up.</p><p>It was a fine antique, he could see why she had taken it, especially after learning of her conversation with Alfred. The question was, why had she dropped it?</p><p>He spied a door flung open at the corner of the hall.</p><p>He judged it was open too far for her to still be inside. No, if Diana had entered that room it would’ve been hesitantly. But if she had left it in a hurry, then she would have flung it wide.</p><p>Bruce rotated slowly, locking eyes on each doorway, trying to see any evidence that she might have entered.</p><p>Around the bend of the hall, he thought he saw a shaft of light.</p><p>Hastening, he followed it.</p><p>“Diana?”</p><p>He was getting nearer, but she still wasn’t responding, making him worry this was another dead end.</p><p>The frame rushed toward him; the door was secured open leaving a clear view inside.</p><p>Bruce stopped himself, bracing his hands on the side of the doorframe, halting his running legs.</p><p>He took a deep breath, calming his racing heart and rising panic.</p><p>He’d found her.</p><p>She sat on the floor in a pool of white muslin, the incoming rays of light from the window shined through her long curls and brought out raven highlights. Her knees were drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, whilst her forehead rested on top, hiding.</p><p>A purple and gold shawl hung loosely from her arms and dripped into the pool of cotton. A small bundle, tightly wrapped in gray and posies, bobbed on the pink carpet at her feet.</p><p>She was a lonely figure, surrounded by things of childhood and nostalgia, but drawn in and cowering from what once brought joy.</p><p>Softly, so as not to startle her, Bruce crossed the soft pink floor.</p><p>He set the sword down beside her bundle. When she didn’t seem to notice his presence, he added the top hat and bonnet to the pile and crouched down, settling on his heels.</p><p>“Diana?” he called; she made no response.</p><p>He just needed to see her face, to make sure she was ok. She could never hide her feelings on her face.</p><p>He placed a hand gently on her shoulder, giving a subtle shake.</p><p>Her head raised.</p><p>The anxiety he had battled during his search came back tenfold upon seeing her empty features and expressionless eyes.</p><p>Her face was blank.</p><p>“Diana, are you alright?”</p><p>It felt an eternity before she recognized him. Her normally red lips, now concerningly colorless, parted and in a quiet voice answered.</p><p>“I don’t remember,” she said.</p><p>She was calm, eyes clouded and dull.</p><p>He nodded his head.</p><p>“I know, Princess. I know.”</p><p>She looked through him. Her voice maintaining that disturbing monotone quality.</p><p>“I tried; I really did try…but I can’t.”</p><p>“<em>Hush</em>, its ok,” he soothed, “it’ll be alright.”</p><p>Her face was still emotionless, like she was frozen, and that scarred him more than anything else.</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I failed.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“They deserved…but I don’t…can’t…I have failed them.”</p><p>“No Diana!” He fiercely protested, gripping her shoulders.</p><p>She didn’t appear to hear him, as she continued rambling.</p><p>“They deserved better…I’ve failed everyone.”</p><p>“Stop it!” he snapped, shaking her shoulders violently.</p><p>She stopped, blinking at him, stunned.</p><p>He relaxed his grip on her shoulder but didn’t let go. Dropping the harsh edge in his voice he spoke calmly but fervently.</p><p>“Listen to me, Diana.”</p><p>He paused to be certain she was hearing him.</p><p>“You have nothing to be sorry for…Do you understand? Don’t blame yourself…You have done <em>nothing</em> wrong.”</p><p>Her expression remained blank, but she gave a barely perceptible nod.</p><p>His grip relaxed a little more, the muscles releasing a fraction of their tension. The lack of emotion in her response was still unnerving though.</p><p>He had seen her angry, he had witnessed her cry, he had experienced her joy, and knew how she behaved when afraid. But this? This was unlike anything he had ever seen from her before, and he was at a loss.</p><p>She was simply silent.</p><p>There was nothing, no fight, no tears, no frustration, or questions. She was empty…empty and silent.</p><p>He’d never seen her like this…it was frightening.</p><p>She was normally so vibrant, tempestuous even, in both her joys and sorrows. What did she need?</p><p> </p><p>She liked hugs, right?</p><p> </p><p>Found them comforting?</p><p> </p><p>She was always impulsively assaulting others with enthusiastic embraces. In fact, nearly every greeting he’d ever received from her had involved a tackling death grip with her arms thrown around his neck.</p><p>She was obviously a physically demonstrative person, though how <em>that</em> was a person’s natural response Bruce struggled to understand.</p><p>Hesitantly, afraid she might break, he folded her into his arms.</p><p>She was stiff.</p><p>His mind began running like mad, trying to discern what a “correct” amount of time was before breaking a hug; long enough to be reassuring but not so long as to feel suffocating.</p><p>He started a mental timer, deciding 30 seconds should be sufficient.</p><p>She suddenly eased her posture, resting her head against the stubbly velvet of his frock coat.</p><p>Bruce released the breath he’d been holding.</p><p>Impulsively he held her closer. Wrapping his arms around her protectively, as if he would keep out the forgotten ghosts that crowded in.</p><p>She didn’t move, didn’t fight, passively accepting the embrace.</p><p>She said something, but it was hard to hear.</p><p>He deciphered a semi-audible “I’m sorry,” but he didn’t know if it was intended for his ears or the family and long dead ghosts, she felt she’d let down.</p><p>His heart clenched.</p><p>He unconsciously rested a hand on her head.</p><p>Seconds passed into minutes.</p><p>Bruce released his arms.</p><p>Standing to his feet he gathered their hats, the sword, and a small bundle from the floor.</p><p>Looking down at the ethereal waif staring blankly at nothing he side-stepped into her view.</p><p>He extended a hand.</p><p>She turned her face slowly up, blinking those magnificent big eyes.</p><p>“Come on, Princess. Time to go.”</p><p> </p><p>He led her back through cavernous abode and out into the bright afternoon sunlight.</p><p>After quickly handing off the sword and bundle to Barda he gave some brisk instructions to the others.</p><p>Bruce ordered them to collect all the Duchess’s jewelry and any books on poetry or folktales, though he doubted there were any books in there. These items would go to Riverfoot, the rest they could pack up for storage.</p><p>Having dispensed with assigning tasks he announced he was taking Diana on a walk thru the park for some air and immediately ushered her away before the rest could bombard her with their concerned curiosity.</p><p>They walked in heavy silence.</p><p>She was like a moving doll.</p><p>Diana took no notice of the trees, passersby, small lake, little animals, people walking dogs, or Bruce.</p><p>He attempted to draw her into conversation, but the most of a response he received was a stiff nod and he soon gave up.</p><p>At least her expression eased the further away from the square they walked.</p><p>The two were deep in the park now.</p><p>Bruce noticed her eyes hesitantly start to take in the scenery and he felt himself relax a little.</p><p>He was about to try distracting her by talking again when he noticed a man dressed in livery waving at him from the other side of the path.</p><p>Bruce frowned, putting a handout he brushed Diana’s shoulder, bringing their walk to a stop.</p><p>She looked at him, he wished he could call the look curious, but it was more like a faceless soldier awaiting orders.</p><p>Bruce looked back over his shoulder to be sure he hadn’t missed the caller, but the man was still there, patiently waiting for the young Duke to approach.</p><p>He made a clicking sound with his teeth, not liking being pulled in different directions but knew he couldn’t ignore the man who had sought him out. He swiftly turned back to Diana; it didn’t take a detective to tell she wasn’t up for introductions right now.</p><p>“Diana, I need to speak with someone for a moment. Will you be alright until I’m back?”</p><p>She blinked.</p><p>“I’m fine.” She said like a trained parrot.</p><p>Bruce gritted his teeth but knew he had no choice but to believe her.</p><p>“Don’t move.” He instructed firmly as he started walking back down the path. “I’ll be right back, so wait here.”</p><p>He left and Diana turned back, suddenly aware of her surroundings and momentarily wondering when they’d gone to a park? She had already been there for roughly a quarter of an hour.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>St. James Park, London England October 5<sup>th</sup>, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Diana Princeton,</em>
</p><p>She stood alone but soon began to feel restless standing in the path, watching others walk by.</p><p>Diana moved into the grass and gazed at the shallow lake. Her toe bumped a stone. She picked it up.</p><p>Holding the smooth rock between her thumb and pointer finger she flicked her wrist and watched it skip across the shiny water. She looked down for another one, skipping it like the first.</p><p>Moving a little further she chose another, then another, oblivious to how far she’d wandered.</p><p>Forgetting Bruce’s warning she managed to walk nearly to the ponds end, skipping stones absentmindedly into the water.</p><p>She picked up a rock that was too big for her sport and, without thinking, discarded it, throwing it ahead with ease.</p><p>But, as the rugged stone slipped her grasp, she saw a red coat come into view, leisurely walking directly into her path towards the pond’s edge and realized her mistake.</p><p>Horrified Diana watched as the rock hurdled in slow motion towards its unsuspecting victim. She opened her mouth, desperate to yell at him to watch out, but it was too late.</p><p>The rock flew true, striking the man square in the back of the head, sending his hat flying and knocking him face first into the lake.</p><p>Diana gasped as the man landed with a smack on the water, sending an impressive spray into the air.</p><p>
  <em>Allah forgive me, I’ve killed him!</em>
</p><p>Dropping her shawl, she raced toward the water, running in without a second thought, the cotton skirt weighing her down as it took on water.</p><p>She reached him in seconds.</p><p>The water was almost to her knees.</p><p>He was sputtering and dazed from the amount of water he’d swallowed and was struggling to get to his feet, slipping on the muddy floor then tumbling back into the water, this time landing on his backside.</p><p>Diana grabbed onto one of his flailing arms, pulling him to his feet.</p><p>But the man’s boots had sunk in the muck.</p><p>The force of her tug sent him to his knees with another splash, spraying her in the face as she sought his arm again.</p><p>Latching on she began to drag the poor soul back the few feet to the bank on his knees, coughing and hacking up the murky water from his lungs.</p><p>Crawling onto the grass the man flopped on his back, taking in big gulps of air, closing his eyes as the pain in his skull registered.</p><p>Frantically Diana knelt beside him, hovering, and wringing her hands over her would be victim.</p><p>“Are you dead?” she asked.</p><p>He opened his eyes, trying to suppress a sputtering cough.</p><p>Their eyes met.</p><p>He blinked, his mouth gaping open as he stared at her face. Diana began to worry he had suffered a serious head injury.</p><p>“If I’m dead,” he said in a reverent hush, “I don’t mind.”</p><p>She tilted her head, confused. How hard had she hit him?</p><p>“I am so sorry about hitting you with that rock.”</p><p>“Don’t be, I’d say it’s the best thing to happen to me all day.”</p><p>He smiled up at her, the headache completely forgotten.</p><p>“I respect a woman with a strong arm. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>She didn’t understand what he meant by that, except maybe he thought she had thrown it too hard and hurt him on purpose!</p><p>“I promise sir I did not mean it. I was completely in a fog and didn’t notice you walking there. Please believe me, I would not lie!”</p><p>“Nor would I ever think you would. Not to worry, I’ll be fine.”</p><p>His laugh turned into a stifled groan as he tried to sit up. Diana quickly assisted, standing, and pulling him to his feet.</p><p>Somehow, in the chaos, the man had managed to save his hat from a watery grave, though it now lay smashed and soggy where Diana’s knees had crushed it.</p><p>She yelped upon realizing and picked it up, looking in dismay at its sorry appearance.</p><p>“Sorry about your hat.” She apologized as she handed the ruined thing to him. “It was a nice hat.”</p><p>He shrugged and gave her a charming lopsided grin.</p><p>“It was hideous. Actually, this might be an improvement.”</p><p>He put the hat on his head. It made a sad squishing sound as more dirty water rained down over his eyes and the fabric flopped over his ears. He tilted his head back, the grin still firmly in place.</p><p>“Well, what do you think, fetching no?”</p><p>Diana couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at the corners of her mouth at the ridiculous sight. His smile grew even wider as he removed the ruined cap from obstructing his view.</p><p>“Most charming,” she replied, “I’ll pay for it.”</p><p>He waved away the offer gallantly.</p><p>“Nonsense,” He gave her a wink, “when an Angel saves your life, giving up your hat is the least you can do.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>St. James Park, London England October 5<sup>th</sup>, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Captain Stephan Trevor,</em>
</p><p>When Stephan Trevor had found himself launched into the lake, he had known someone was attempting to help him but was unable to see who.</p><p>As he laid on his back, trying to catch his breath, he could sense his would-be-savior watching over him.</p><p>He opened his eyes.</p><p>Stephan had expected to see a man, or at least a boy, given the strength of their grip and balance in the mud.</p><p>What he hadn’t expected was to be gazing up into the concerned face of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.</p><p>Dark Raven curls fell like a veil around her face.</p><p>High cheek you could cut a diamond on, thick black eyebrows swooping down in concern over large azure blue eyes, clear and bright, framed by dense black lashes that were so long they curled back on themselves.</p><p>In all his 18 years of life, he had never seen eyes that shade of blue, it was mesmerizing.</p><p>Her complexion made him think of an English Rose dipped in salt water.</p><p>The healthy pink bloom in her cheeks against soft white, but her skin was also tan with an underlining current of blue and green coursing through the veins rising to the surface, reminding him of the sun on the sea.</p><p>A well-proportioned mouth sat below a noble, straight nose that proudly stood out from her face, while ruby lips twisted in worry as her alert gaze scanned his face.</p><p>The vision threw a portion of her rich mane over one shoulder, allowing him to glimpse one adorably large ear and a long thin neck.</p><p><em>Wow,</em> he thought, <em>an Angel.</em></p><p>Stephan Trevor had always been skeptical of the concept of guardian angels, but for the rest of his life he would believe wholeheartedly.</p><p>The celestial being helped him to his feet.</p><p>Words were exchanged but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what they had said, except that he had tried to make her laugh.</p><p>When silence fell, after a failed attempt to draw her amusement with his ruined hat, he found himself mesmerized once again by her beauty.</p><p>Removing his hat, he tried to ring the water out of it, still looking at her face, completely unaware of how long he had been, rather blatantly, staring.</p><p>Her cheeks were growing flushed under his admiring gaze and she ducked her head shyly.</p><p>Realizing he was making her uncomfortable he tried to stop staring, nervously clearing his throat a couple times. How does one talk to such a beautiful being?</p><p>He opened his mouth, but no words came out, only a hoarse croak like a thirsty frog.</p><p>She gave him a quizzical look, her lips pursed like she wanted to question the noise but thought better of it.</p><p>Steve’s face burned a thousand degrees.</p><p>Mortified, he silently cursed himself for being tongue-tied before such a refined creature.</p><p>
  <em>She must think I’m a complete simpleton and a fool to boot.</em>
</p><p>He chuckled at his own assessment.</p><p>
  <em>At least her view of me would be an accurate one.</em>
</p><p>She tucked a stray curl behind her ear.</p><p>“I am glad you are not hurt Sir?”</p><p>With her words he found his tongue and all previous nerves vanished at the note of hesitation in her voice.</p><p>If there was one thing, he was good at it was helping others forget their own nerves.</p><p>“Trevor,” he answered, giving her a gracious bow. “Stephan Trevor, but my friends call me Steve. I would be honored if you would too Miss Angel.”</p><p>He looked at her hopefully.</p><p>She bit her bottom lip but couldn’t hold back the curving of her lips into a shy smile as she nodded.</p><p>His entire world lit up with that smile and he swore he would see it again if it were the last thing he did.</p><p>“I am glad you are not hurt…Steve.”</p><p>His warm boyish laughter sang in her ears again.</p><p>“It’ll take more than a bonk on the head and a puddle to do me in.”</p><p>Steve’s heart raced, blood pounded in his ears, he felt like he could swim the channel and then run the road all the way from London to Edinburg and back again.</p><p>He was disappointed that she hadn’t introduced herself in turn, but figured it was a girl’s prerogative to be wary of a new gentleman.</p><p>The hesitant silence that often befalls new acquaintances settled between them, a mixture of excited expectations and wary nervousness.</p><p>He smiled again; he just couldn’t seem to help it.</p><p>She wasn’t paying attention to him though as she had begun to wring the water from her skirt. Thank goodness cotton dried quickly and there was a warm breeze.</p><p>Steve noticed a change in her now that she was no longer worried about his wellbeing.</p><p>He couldn’t discern why, but something about her struck him as…sad.</p><p>That was it, she seemed sad, and it was heart breaking.</p><p>He looked around, for something that might cheer her up.</p><p>A small pushcart came into view and Steve’s face spread into a child-like grin.</p><p>
  <em>That ought a do it!</em>
</p><p>He turned to the girl.</p><p>“Have you ever had a Penny Lick Miss Angel?”</p><p>She shook her head no, eyes brightening, and her eyebrows arched, curious.</p><p>His smile grew.</p><p>“Then would you allow me to buy you an ice cream as a thank you for saving my life?”</p><p>He gave another theatrical bow and her lips tugged into a small smile again.</p><p>She nodded.</p><p>Steve offered her his arm, which she took, ignoring the dampness that still clung to the fabric, as he led her towards the vendor’s cart.</p><p>While they walked Steve made another observation.</p><p>She was tall, probably a little taller than him if he weren’t wearing his boots.</p><p>And unlike other girls, who tended to take tiny steps and duck their faces demurely behind their fans, she walked with her head held high, shoulders back, confident stride set to her own pace, never copying the gate of others.</p><p>This confidence naturally attracted the attention of others as she breezed down the center of the path without hesitation, clearly expecting everyone else, to make way for her.</p><p>Most girls who behaved in such a way were constantly looking over their shoulder for the reactions around them, smugly enjoying the attention.</p><p>But she didn’t even notice the stares or whispers, weather in awe or annoyance, they received not even the slightest acknowledgement from her.</p><p>It was like she had been trained not to see them. Like this was natural deference to her station and the reaction or very presence of others was of no interest to her.</p><p>Steve watched in wonder at her confidence and supreme command of herself. Nothing forced, nothing overthought, just natural grace and regality.</p><p>She walked like royalty!</p><p>The vendor smiled as they approached.</p><p>“What can I get fer ye Captain?” the elderly man asked, his calloused hand rubbing his trouser leg to clean it.</p><p>“I’d like to buy a penny lick for the lady here.” Steve said and smiled as he noticed the Angle peering curiously into the cart. He wondered if they had ice cream in Heaven?</p><p>“Of course,” the vendor replied, turning to the girl. “What’ll it be Miss?”</p><p>She looked blankly at the man, biting her lower lip.</p><p>“I-I don’t know…what would you get?” she asked him, and Steve watched the other man’s heart melt.</p><p>He gave her a toothy smile, all crooked, cracked, and yellow.</p><p>“Parmesan’s me favorite Miss. I’d stake me reputation on it, no finer in all London town!”</p><p>He puffed out his narrow chest proudly and she nodded her consent.</p><p>The man quickly filled the penny glass and handed it to her as Steve gave him his last penny.</p><p>She sniffed the dessert, her brows knitting together in concentration while Steve and the Vendor waited expectantly.</p><p>“What am I supposed to do?” She asked.</p><p>“Ya lick it!” the old man laughed.</p><p>She squared her shoulders and gave the cold ice a quick lick.</p><p>Instantly her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped open. The old man snickered as her face lit up with joy and she began eating the desert with relish.</p><p>“Good?” Steve asked, trying to hold back his own laughter.</p><p>She turned her face to him, the first real smile he’d seen on her face radiating with wonder.</p><p>“It’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, finishing the last few licks of the bowl before handing it back to the vendor, and saying, with absolute seriousness, “you should be very proud.”</p><p>This time Steve couldn’t hold back and laughed joyously as the vendor became misty eyed and thanked the girl, taking back the glass.</p><p>“You should be proud!” Steve concurred, waving back to the man as he led her back to the pond.</p><p>The sadness was gone, and her delighted smile shone bright.</p><p>Yes, Steve thought, that was the best penny he’d ever spent. Trading his last bit of money for a real smile was worth it.</p><p>“May I ask you a question?” he ventured.</p><p>She nodded and waited expectantly.</p><p>“Why is your voice like that?” he asked, “Your accent I mean, where did it come from?”</p><p>Her expression became wary and she raised her chin proudly in the air.</p><p>“What about your voice?” she countered. “I haven’t heard any other English man talk like <strong>you</strong>.”</p><p>He gave a hearty laugh.</p><p>She was taken aback by his reaction, she’d expected him to be offended and storm off, but his open demeanor didn’t seem fazed by her blunt rudeness.</p><p>“You’re right about that Angel. That’s because I’m only half English, the rest of me is American, at least partially grown.”</p><p>He gave a proud smile and she laughed, completely relaxed in his presence.</p><p>“Why did he call you Captain?” she asked, this time catching him off guard. “That is not your name. Do you have boat perhaps?”</p><p>“No, I’m a Captain in the army, or at least I became one today.”</p><p>They came to a stop by the lake’s edge and she turned around to look at him, curiosity written all over her face.</p><p>“That’s actually why I’m here. I just received my commission and I wanted to thank the man who arranged it for me, Captain Lance, but he wasn’t at home.”</p><p>She tilted her head.</p><p>“Captain Benjamin Lance?”</p><p>Steve’s face snapped up.</p><p>“You know him?”</p><p>She nodded, an amused smile on her red lips.</p><p>“He is my Uncle.”</p><p>“Really!” Steve exclaimed, excitedly grabbing her hand. “Could you please tell him that Stephan Trevor wants to thank him for the opportunity?”</p><p>Caught up in his excitement she happily agreed.</p><p>“Oh, this is wonderful!” He shouted, clearly relieved that the man would know of his gratitude. “I would never have been able to be commissioned if it hadn’t been for him. He paid for it you know after seeing me drill down at Sandhurt.”</p><p>“I’ll tell him.” She said, delighted in how the corners of his blue eyes crinkled with his smile and showed of straight pearly teeth. She took a moment to admire his dirty blond hair as he brushed it out of his face.</p><p>“Miss, you truly are an Angel! I was so worried I wouldn’t get to thank him. I’m heading to my post at the base just outside of Gotham and this was my last day in London. But now it’s all been solved, thank you so much!”</p><p>She laughed, “You’re most welcome.”</p><p>They were so caught up in the moment neither noticed that they were still holding hands.</p><p>“Did you say you were going to Gotham?” she ventured.</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>Her smile blossomed.</p><p>“I live near there!”</p><p>Steve’s face was shocked as he looked up to the sky and spoke.</p><p>“Lord, for whatever mischief I’ve caused in my life, thank you for not holding it against me!”</p><p>She didn’t understand why he was talking to the sky when she had told him something, so she tried to be more direct.</p><p>“I said I live in Kent, near Gotham. I live with my Aunt Lady Kent at Riverfoot Hall.”</p><p>Steve looked like a giddy little boy.</p><p>However, just as he was about to reply another voice thundered through the air and drew their attention away from each other.</p><p>“DIANA!” a deep voice bellowed.</p><p>Steve turned and his jaw swung open at the sight of The Duke of Gotham marching in his direction.</p><p>His dark green frockcoat flapped behind him as he took long strides towards the two, and the dark scowl on his face matched his black hair when he spied the two of them, hands still intertwined.</p><p>Steve instinctively dropped her hand and took a step back.</p><p>The much taller man shot the 18-year-old soldier with a warning glance, prompting Steve to take an extra step back, just out of precaution.</p><p>Satisfied for the moment the man turned his attention to the girl.</p><p>“What happened, why didn’t you wait like I told you, and why are you all wet?”</p><p>Steve was suddenly stabbed with an accusatory glare as the Duke quickly scanned her for any sign of injury or harm while he hastily removed his coat and placed it on her shoulders, all the while managing to continue glaring daggers at the stranger.</p><p>Steve gave his most charming smile to the man, trying to hide his shaking knees.</p><p>Diana shrugged off the coat and tossed it back at him, earning her a glare that she promptly ignored.</p><p>“I’m fine Bruce, I was just talking to my new friend!”</p><p>Steve suddenly had mixed feelings of elation and fear at being singled out as her friend to the clearly infuriated man.</p><p>Taking the initiative, he stepped forward and extended his hand.</p><p>“Captain Stephan Trevor, <em>Your Grace</em>.”</p><p>The Duke didn’t even glance at the hand but took a deliberate step forward, placing himself between Steve and the girl. His dark blue eyes narrowing to slits as Steve became certain the man could see into his very soul.</p><p>“<em>Captain</em>,” he growled, sending a shiver up the boy’s spine as he slowly retracted his hand.</p><p>Without taking his eyes off Steve, he addressed the girl.</p><p>“Lady Diana, it’s time we were going.”</p><p>Steve’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he picked his jaw off the ground.</p><p>“L-Lady Diana?”</p><p>He turned to the girl who was glaring angrily at the back of the Duke’s head.</p><p>“Did he just call you Lady Diana?” he asked her.</p><p>She blew a stray curl out of her face and looked back at him with an apologetic smile before giving a shrug, letting him know that was her name.</p><p>“It’s pretty, but I prefer Angel.” He blurted out without thinking.</p><p>She blushed.</p><p>“I don’t mind Angel,” she said giving him a bright smile.</p><p>The Duke growled in annoyance and if looks could kill Steve had little doubt he’d be on his way through the circles of hell at that moment.</p><p>“Diana,” the man said, his voice wasn’t as harsh but left no room for negotiation. “It’s time to leave.”</p><p>He redirected his gaze to Steve, offering him the first semblance of a polite smile, though the boy wasn’t blind to the clear warning beneath the thin veneer.</p><p>“My Godmother has requested we call on her. You understand?”</p><p>Steve found himself not as afraid this time. After all, Diana liked him so why should he be intimidated by this man?</p><p>Flashing a dazzling smile, he replied, “Of course, I hope you have a pleasant day <em>Your Grace</em>.” Then, without giving the older man a chance to react he swiftly grabbed the girl’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Lady Diana.” He smiled up at her as she clearly tried to contain her laughter.</p><p>The Duke took hold of her elbow and promptly guided her away down the path.</p><p>“May I call on you in Kent?” Steve shouted.</p><p>She looked over her shoulder and gave him a brilliant smile.</p><p>“Of course!” she yelled back before her guardian quickened the pace.</p><p>He watched in a rosy haze an Angel fly away, oblivious to the spectators drawing near.</p><p>“And what would you be gawking at Stevie boy?”</p><p>A fellow soldier, not much older than him, dressed in red and white regimentals slapped him on the back, a mischievous grin on his face while a second stood a little apart, arms crossed over his broad chest and brown eyes watching the younger man skeptically.</p><p>“The girl I want to marry.” Steve said.</p><p>He immediately regretted it at the sound of the other man’s laughter.</p><p>“Steve’s in love!” He cackled, gesturing towards their fellow soldier with the dark black hair. “Prince did you hear? Stevie boy has found himself a girl!”</p><p>The other man nodded, “I heard ya Billy.”</p><p>Billy looked back to Steve, scanning the younger man’s line of sight for the mystery maid.</p><p>“Which one is she Trevor? Don’t be selfish now, who’s the new lucky lady to catch yer eye?”</p><p>Steve groaned but knew better than to fight his friend’s curiosity.</p><p>“The Girl walking with The Duke of Gotham.” He answered, gesturing to the pair who had slowed their pace down the path.</p><p>“Ah!” Billy exclaimed approvingly, “What’s her name?”</p><p>Steve frowned for a moment, thinking.</p><p>“Lady Diana…Lady Diana…Something.”</p><p>“Princeton.” A deep voice said behind them and the two men snapped their necks to look at their friend who was watching the raven-haired girl grow smaller in the distance. He could still see her thanks to his unusual height.</p><p>“Lady Diana Princeton.” He repeated.</p><p>Billy frowned.</p><p>“How do <em>you</em> know her name, Prince?”</p><p>The other man shrugged.</p><p>Billy ignored this and tried to catch the last fleeting glimpse of the girl; his arm draped lazily over Steve’s shoulder.</p><p>“I’ve heard of her, but nobody’s seen her.”</p><p>Prince nodded his agreement and Steve suddenly whipped around, surprising his two friends who raised their eyebrows.</p><p>“Now listen you two, we’re friends right?”</p><p>“Of course!” Billy assured him while Prince shrugged and gave a begrudging “Why not.”</p><p>“Then as my friends, swear you won’t try to pursue Diana. At least until she’s had a chance to reject me first.”</p><p>Billy laughed and slapped him on the back.</p><p>“It’s a promise from me lover boy. I’d never be the one to stand in the way of true love.”</p><p>Steve breathed a sigh of relief before turning quick eyes on the other man.</p><p>“Prince?” he asked.</p><p>Billy gave a snort and Prince’s lips twitched in amusement as he and Billy shared a knowing look at their friend’s expense.</p><p>“What?” Steve asked.</p><p>Billy wiped a tear from his eye and Prince took a step away to try and control himself.</p><p>“You don’t need to worry about Prince. He’d rather gather chestnuts than young ladies’ hearts.” Billy said with a wink.</p><p>Steve wasn’t entirely convinced and continued to insist his friends give him a chance with the girl without interference.</p><p>Finally, in control of himself again Prince gave the younger man a reassuring pat on the shoulder.</p><p>“Not to worry Trevor.” He said, “I’m pretty sure there are laws against it.”</p><p>Neither of the two men understood what he could mean by that but decided to ignore him.</p><p>Steve had gotten his promise and that was good enough for him, besides, Billy reminded them that they were running late and had best get a move on.</p><p>As Billy and Steve ran off Prince lingered behind. His face solemn, mouth downturned, and brown eyes intently focused, as he cast one last glance back at the girl with raven curls.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>St. James Park, London England October 5<sup>th</sup>, 1844</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—Bruce Wayne,</em>
</p><p>Bruce gripped his top hat in one fist, his shoulders tense as he listened to be sure that impertinent simp wasn’t following them.</p><p>He’d been out of his mind with worry when he’d come back to find Diana gone, and then to find her damp, covered in muddy grass stains, and flirting with a complete stranger did nothing to lower his blood pressure!</p><p>Though in all fairness he doubted Diana understood what flirting was, let alone that she had a natural knack for it.</p><p>He didn’t know why it had infuriated him so much to see her relaxed and laughing with that boy, except maybe the sting that every attempt Bruce had made to lift her spirits had failed whereas that blond buffoon had managed to bring back her smile.</p><p>Well, whatever the reason he didn’t want to dwell on it, except that he was still seething with rage at that flirtatious little pretty boy who probably made a habit of misleading unsuspecting young girls.</p><p>He should’ve put the fear of God in him when he had the chance.</p><p>Bruce relaxed slightly when there was no sign of Trevor trying to pursue Diana with him present.</p><p>“That was rude.” Diana said as she walked beside him.</p><p>Pulling the purple shawl higher up her arms, she clutched her bonnet tightly, nearly smashing one of the orange blossoms.</p><p>“Agreed.” Bruce gruffly replied, still seething with indignation. “How dare he address a lady so casually?”</p><p>Diana glared.</p><p>“I was talking about <strong>you</strong>.”</p><p>He avoided her eyes.</p><p>“I don’t have any idea what you mean. I was perfectly polite.”</p><p>Diana scoffed. Bruce snapped his head to the side.</p><p>“Sure, you were,” she chortled. “You are the very picture of warm and welcoming.”</p><p>Bruce turned back to the path, keeping his face stoic.</p><p>He didn’t need to defend himself. Diana didn’t understand how many unsavory characters there were in the world. He was looking out for her.</p><p>As if she could hear his thoughts she responded,</p><p>“I’m not dumb. I can look out for myself, and I <strong>don’t</strong> need a mother hen in trousers to hover over me.”</p><p>“I’ll believe that when you start having a care for the kind of people you befriend.”</p><p>“Steve was perfectly nice, and much better behaved than a certain someone I know.”</p><p>Bruce smirked at her jab.</p><p>“People aren’t always what they seem, Diana.”</p><p>“But you’ll never know if you don’t give them a chance first!” She passionately retorted.</p><p>He sighed. It was obvious she wasn’t going to listen to him. Stubborn girl.</p><p>“<em>Captain</em> Trevor, will have ample opportunity to prove himself if he wishes to see you again.”</p><p>Diana’s eyebrows swooped down.</p><p>“What do you mean by that?”</p><p>He picked up the pace to trying to avoid her scrutiny. But she matched him stride for stride. Damn growth spurt!</p><p>“Don’t you walk away from me Bruce Wayne!” she yelled, causing others to stare.</p><p>He stopped before she drew more attention to them.</p><p>“What I mean,” he ground out through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice low, “is that I am not going to allow anyone near you without making sure they don’t pose a threat.”</p><p>Diana’s eyes doubled in size before hardening into blue ice.</p><p>“<em>Allow?</em>” She hissed, her accent becoming dangerously pronounced.</p><p>He’d messed up.</p><p>“You, <em>Your Grace</em>,”</p><p>Bruce tried not to wince. She never used his title.</p><p>“Do not have the <strong>right</strong> to allow me to do anything.”</p><p>“I am only looking out for your best interests.” He tried to explain, his own anger growing.</p><p>How had they even gotten into this conversation?</p><p>“Well, your services have been <strong>refined</strong>.” She said, raising her chin into the air.</p><p>“I believe you mean <strong>Declined</strong>.”</p><p>Her nostrils flared, she clenched her fists, hot indignation burning in her veins.</p><p>Bruce smirked.</p><p>“Khara `aleik!” she yelled, throwing up her hands.</p><p>
  <em>[You’re treating me badly &amp; I’m angry with you]</em>
</p><p>She began cursing at him in Arabic, painting the air with colorful slurs as his smirk fell away, replaced by a dark scowl.</p><p>She moved from simple curse words and was now on a tyrant of something about paranoia and trust issues, but Bruce was only able to catch about every third word.</p><p>He’d forgot how fast she could talk when she was angry.</p><p>Diana’s voice grew louder as he tried to guide her away from the gathering crowd of spectators, who no doubt thought he was harassing her and were giving him suspicious stares.</p><p>Bruce snatched her wrist. He needed to lead her away from the onlookers, but she wrenched free.</p><p>“Ini`le` `an wijhe!” she screamed. <em>[Get the hell out of my face!]</em></p><p>Bruce grabbed her upper arm, yanking her back and bringing them face to face.</p><p>“Not going to happen.” His acerbic undertone bit in her ear.</p><p>Diana opened her mouth.</p><p>Bruce covered it with his hand, muffling her insults.</p><p>Instantly he became aware of how bad that looked and dropped his hand, releasing her arm as two gentlemen in his peripherals took a step toward him.</p><p>He nodded to the men. Their wives were sending him dirty looks from a few paces away. Unfortunately, Diana had not run out of things to say and was gearing up for another round.</p><p>Bruce cut her off before she could start.</p><p>“Would you mind keeping your voice down before we get locked up for disturbing the peace?” He hissed through smiling teeth.</p><p>Their eyes locked, stern disapproval meeting righteous fury.</p><p>Thick black lashes flicked over azure. Diana took a step back, finally noticing their audience.</p><p>The group of watchers began to disperse, deciding the young woman wasn’t in danger.</p><p>Bruce drew a ragged breath.</p><p>Diana shot a warning look, telling him this was far from over.</p><p>Bruce avoided it by rolling his eyes to the heavens, from whence cometh thy help.</p><p>He admired that tenacious quality of hers.</p><p>He respected her independent spirit, though he feared its consequences. Her passion for fairness and belief in people’s inherent good, were inspiring, if rather naïve.</p><p>Despite their different instincts, Bruce thought Diana was one of the most good-natured people he knew, among the ranks of Alfred and Clark.</p><p>A smile ghosted across his face.</p><p>The fierce glower softened as Diana brushed a few blowing curls out of her face before putting her bonnet on.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, she spoke, in English this time.</p><p>“I know in your heart you are a kind and compassionate man, Bruce.”</p><p>He faltered, stunned by her noble view of him.</p><p>Had she forgotten the part he’d played in taking her from her home?</p><p>Bruce would never forget the guilt he shared in destroying Diana’s once happy life. He was the one who had physically removed her from her family, mother, sisters, and her people. One day he knew she would realize that.</p><p>Focused on tying the ribbon beneath her chin, she was oblivious to his reaction.</p><p>She tucked a few loose hairs into the hat before looking up, instantly concerned at his expression. It was the same look she’d seen on the ship when she’d asked about his family, full of guilt and pain.</p><p>Schooling his features, Bruce retrieved her gloves from his coat pocket, returning them.</p><p>She accepted the gloves, slipping them on her hands, but never looking away from his face.</p><p>He was increasingly uncomfortable under her scrutiny. Clearing his throat, he looked to see if the carriage had arrived.</p><p>There was a gentle tug on his sleeve. He glanced at lace gloved fingers holding tightly to the fabric.</p><p>Her voice was gentle, devoid of its previous anger.</p><p>“I don’t know why trusting others is difficult for you, but if you treat the world with mistrust, it will never see you as the man I know.”</p><p>Bruce gently removed her hand from his arm, holding the tips of her fingers for a second before letting go.</p><p>“I’m not a perfect man, Diana.” His tone was solemn.</p><p>“But you are a good one.”</p><p>She tilted her head, looking at him with complete trust.</p><p>“When you send good out into the world Bruce, someday it will find its way back. Good will always be repaid, sometimes it just takes a while.”</p><p>“Who told you that, Princess?”</p><p>“My Ami.”</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>Looking at this innocent, beautiful, girl full of noble ideals, he wished trust were that easy or the world so forgiving, for her sake.</p><p>“Your mother is a wise woman.”</p><p>She fiddled with the ring beneath her glove.</p><p>“Kattir kherak.” <em>[Thank you<strong>—</strong>May God multiply your good deeds.]</em></p><p>He took her hand, placing it in the crook of his arm.</p><p>“The carriage is here.”</p><p>He led her towards an open-air carriage waiting at the edge of the park.</p><p>“Where are we going?” she asked.</p><p>He placed his top hat on his head then helped her into the carriage.</p><p>“To Marlborough House.”</p>
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